Her Good Name

by Josi S. Kilpack

  But she’d already turned toward the door, desperate to be alone with her addiction. She headed into the cold night without a backward glance. She’d worry about Friday when Friday came. For now, relief was only a hit away.

  Chapter 4

  Tony watched the girl disappear out the door. When he was alone, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He had to walk to the far corner of the room and plug his other ear in order to hear over the music. As soon as Freddie said “Hello” in that slightly accented voice of his, Tony started talking.

  “I got one for a Chressaidia Josefina Salazar. I haven’t worked her up but she sounds good. Just wanted you to know.”

  Freddie was silent for a moment. “I’ll throw in an extra grand if you can get us a full workup within the week. We really need that name. We’re also looking for a few other IDs. Details don’t matter.”

  “Sure. How many do you want?”

  “Two men.”

  “I’ve got a Daniel Dorado and a Micah Heet, both with copies of their driver’s licenses.”

  “Perfect. Five hundred apiece.”

  He frowned. Five hundred was nothing, but Freddie was good, always paying fast and easy. Tony wasn’t about to screw it up by making demands for more money. Besides, this Salazar workup would cover the difference. “I’ll fax them in the morning and have Salazar for you by next week.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “Got it.”

  Tony hung up and smiled. “Florida, here I come.”

  Chapter 5

  Idaho Falls, Idaho

  Thursday, February 28

  It was nearly dark when Micah pulled into his driveway Thursday night. On the way home from the office he’d stopped to pick up a bottle of grout sealer he needed for the bathroom—assuming he’d ever finish the project. He was new to laying tile so the job was moving slowly, but at least he had something to keep his mind and hands busy.

  The cold took his breath away and he missed the heater of his truck as soon as he opened the door to get out. He tucked the bottle of sealer under one arm, shut the driver’s door behind him, and headed toward the house by way of the snow-packed sidewalk.

  Once inside, he shook off the cold and put down the sealer. He felt guilty for being glad the kids weren’t coming this weekend. They’d made him promise he wouldn’t spend his weekends with them working on the house, yet he hated being haunted by half-finished projects.

  After flipping the switch on the gas fireplace he’d had installed in July—when the price was low—he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the back of the couch. The orange Post-it note Amanda had given him on Sunday was still stuck to the wall where he’d put it after church and it caught his eye for the two hundredth time.

  Cam had been the first one to ask how the date had gone, but it had been Amanda who had forced the number into Micah’s hand and committed him to at least think about calling Chrissy again. He’d tried to explain that he wasn’t interested, but Amanda wouldn’t take no for an answer. The orange Post-it had been haunting him ever since. Micah wished his stomach didn’t get so fluttery every time he saw it.

  Why haven’t I thrown it away?

  He had no answer and it made no sense, but part of him was riddled with curiosity as to how a second date with Chrissy would go. Did that mean he was stupid or just bored? She wasn’t anything like the other women he’d dated. She was . . . color and energy . . . unique in a somewhat frightening way.

  He unclipped his cell phone from his belt, wondering if he ought to throw caution to the wind and just call her. He looked around his living room—white walls patched with white mud still in need of sanding. Plain, boring—safe. Was that why he hadn’t called? Was he afraid of adding color, of perhaps feeling something he hadn’t felt in such a long time? The thought scared him a little. He didn’t like the idea that he was afraid of change. If that was true, then he would live this life, this way, forever.

  Kayla was attending her first year of college in southern Utah, Blake had just turned sixteen, and Mallory would be fourteen in a few months. Micah had been alone for eleven years and the emptiness inside him not filled by the house and the kids wasn’t going away. He wanted more—longed for it. He looked at the Post-it again, his stomach filling with butterflies. Calling her wouldn’t be the dumbest thing he’d ever done, and maybe his existence needed a little spin cycle. It’s not like one more date would require a lifetime commitment. He felt a smile tugging at his mouth, and the rush of anticipation at a second date with Chrissy was impossible to ignore. I’m gonna do it, he said to himself. I’m going to give it another shot. His thumb was hovering over the number pad when the phone rang in his hand, making him jump.

  He recognized Blake’s cell number and lifted the phone to his ear, unsure of whether he was relieved or annoyed by the interruption.

  “Hey, Blake,” he said as he leaned against the back of the couch and took off his ball cap, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead and feeling guilty for wishing his son had waited just two more minutes.

  “Dad, I’m sick of this,” Blake said, his voice thick with adolescent temper. “She’s making me crazy.”

  Even though he had visitation only two weekends a month, he talked to the kids a few times a week, and Blake complaining about his mother was becoming a common theme. Micah kept his voice calm and neutral. “What’s going on?”

  “She won’t let me take that job,” Blake spat. “She says it’ll ‘distract from my studies.’” The last part was said in a high falsetto voice that Micah assumed was an attempt to impersonate Natalie. He smiled slightly, glad Blake couldn’t see him.

  “How are your grades?”

  “Great,” Blake said as if offended Micah had to ask. “Nothing lower than a B, just like I promised. So I turned in my application, and Pizza Hut called back for an interview, but she won’t let me go.”

  Micah let out a breath, already formulating what to say to Natalie. “Is your mom there?”

  “She’s downstairs. I’ll go get her.” There was a triumphant quality to Blake’s voice that Micah didn’t like, but he didn’t know what to do about it either.

  He hated being pitted against Natalie, but wondered if she didn’t make these decisions on purpose, knowing Micah would be pulled into it and thereby giving her someone to vent to.

  “Of course he calls you,” Natalie said right off the bat.

  “Why shouldn’t he?” Micah countered. “I was there when we made the bargain. We can’t back out now, Natalie. We told him if he got his grades up—”

  “They are barely up,” she cut in. “And it’s only the end of the second term. Dennis and I talked about it and we just don’t think—”

  “Dennis is not Blake’s father,” Micah interrupted, trying to keep his voice calm. “He does not have a say in this and you know it. Do we have to argue about that again?” Dennis and Natalie had been married for almost eight years. They had two children—boys Micah had only seen fleetingly and in pictures. Dennis was a good-enough man—he treated the kids well and kept Natalie in all the shoes and purses she could want—but Micah resented it when Dennis tried to do his job for him. Natalie knew that and had agreed to keep decisions about their children, between the two of them. “Blake didn’t get anything lower than a B, right?”

  “Barely Bs.”

  “Barely is a B. It’s enough. We don’t have the luxury of changing our minds.”

  “Oh, I most certainly do,” Natalie replied before launching into her other complaints, a million reasons why Blake couldn’t handle a part-time job. Micah let her go on about dirty laundry, sleeping in on the weekends, and how hard it would be for her and Dennis to drive him back and forth. His frustration grew with every item on her never-ending list. He couldn’t take it anymore.

  “None of that matters.” Micah was pacing now; his ex-wife had that kind of effect on him. “We promised. If his grades fall, he’ll have to quit but until then—”

  “Oh, so
you want to set him up for failure?”

  Micah’s jaw clenched and fire shot up to his head. “No! I want us to follow through. We told him—”

  “You told him,” Natalie spat back. “You’re the one who made the deal.”

  Micah stopped in the middle of the floor. “That’s not true!” His other hand clenched into a fist. “We were both there. We both agreed.”

  “But it was your idea.”

  “And you agreed!” Micah yelled back, finally losing his cool. “If you didn’t want him to do this, you shouldn’t have agreed, but you did, and . . . and maybe I can find him a cheap car or something so that it’s not such a burden on you and Dennis.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect!” Natalie said. “Buy him something—that will make it all better. You know what? I’m sick to death of him, of you—of everything. Since you’re so sure you’ve got all the answers, he can come live with you and you can make all the decisions.”

  Micah paused, but only for a moment. No way would he let her hang up the phone and tell Blake that Micah had hesitated. “I’d love to,” he said, though the idea was a bit frightening. He hadn’t been more than a summer-weekend-holiday dad for a very long time. Taking on that much daily responsibility made his mouth go dry.

  “Fine,” Natalie said. “I’ll bring him over in an hour.” She hung up.

  Micah scrubbed a hand over his balding head again as his stomach sank. How would he keep tabs on a teenage boy? Micah survived on cold cereal and frozen burritos—except for every other weekend when he stocked the fridge with yogurt and hamburger in an attempt to make his kids think he lived something like a normal life. What would happen when he made a decision Blake didn’t like? Would Natalie rescue Blake the way Micah just had? He didn’t like the way his son suddenly felt like a commodity, traded when the market wasn’t looking good.

  Not for the first time, Micah wondered what he’d expected almost twelve years ago when he’d gone to an attorney and filed for divorce. Back then it seemed as if the new-found freedom would make up for all the difficulties that might lie ahead. He’d had no idea how hard it would be.

  He picked up the orange Post-it one last time before crumpling it in his hand and launching it toward the box by the fireplace he used for a garbage can. Wanting color and longing for companionship was no longer an option. Life was about to change again, with less room than ever for someone else. He sat on the edge of the weight bench he kept in the living room, knowing he should work out or do something to take his mind off the fears rising in his chest. Instead, he stared at the box for a long time, thinking about all the details of his life that had just been shifted.

  Almost an hour later, headlights swept across the window. He looked up, panic closing his throat.

  Blake was here. It was time to be a dad.

  Chapter 6

  Chrissy looked at the clock again, noting that it was after nine and Livvy still wasn’t home. She wasn’t answering her phone either. Chrissy had told Rosa her mom was working late, but that was hours ago and besides, the kids knew Livvy never worked past seven. It was a school night, and though Chrissy loved having the kids over, it was late, and they were all getting tired.

  Chrissy was trying to pay some bills, sure that the gas bill should have arrived by now. Had she put it somewhere other than the desk where she threw the rest of her mail? She’d been through everything four times and still couldn’t find the statement. Weird.

  When her cell phone rang, she instantly thought it could be Micah—turns out that was the name of the guy she’d referred to as Mmmmmm. She wasn’t sure which name she liked better. Amanda had told Chrissy she’d given Micah her number and even though she’d been telling herself not to expect a call, as the days went by she’d still found herself hoping he would. But then the caller ID told her it was Livvy, and all thoughts of Micah were pushed away.

  “Liv, where are you?”

  “Hi, Chriss,” Livvy said. “I thought I better call and let you know I won’t be home ’til later. Some gals at work invited me to go out with them. It’s Maria’s birthday.”

  Were her words slurring or was Chrissy imagining things? She turned away from the kids and tried to keep her jealousy at bay. It wasn’t fair that Chrissy watched Livvy’s kids while Livvy hung out with friends.

  “Liv,” she said, trying to sound diplomatic. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did—I told Rosa.”

  “You told Rosa you were working late. The kids were already here when I got home. They’d been here alone for three hours.”

  Silence.

  Chrissy took a breath, trying to keep her tone even. “Why didn’t you call my cell instead of telling Rosa? I could have left the office early. I’m the one who needs to know when I’m watching the kids, not Rosa.”

  “Sorry,” Liv said. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I haven’t been out for so long. I just needed a break.” There was loud music and laughter in the background, meaning she was likely at some bar.

  There had been a time when Livvy was the consummate party girl—it was how she had met Rosa’s father when she was still in high school, and later how she’d met Marius. But after Marius left her and she became a single parent, she’d calmed down. Around that same time, Chrissy had moved back from California and lived with Livvy and the kids for a few months. Chrissy made a spontaneous offer on a house down the road when she realized the house payment wouldn’t be that different than if she rented an apartment. She was shocked when a month later she found herself a home owner.

  Living so close to Livvy and the kids was wonderful—most of the time—and though Chrissy was usually optimistic about her sister, she didn’t like that Livvy was dipping her toes back into the nightlife scene. She wondered if Livvy was with the new guy she was seeing, and the jealously pitched a little higher. The last thing Livvy needed was a new man—she’d proven twice over that she wasn’t any good at choosing the right kind.

  “I need to know when I’m being left with the kids,” Chrissy finally said. “You have to check with me. What if I’d had something going on tonight?”

  “Did you?” Livvy challenged.

  Chrissy paused. Was her life so insignificant? “That’s not the point. What if I had?”

  “But you didn’t.” The line was silent. “I’ll be home in a little while. Just take the kids over to the house and put them to bed. They’ll be fine,” Livvy said. “Thanks.”

  Chrissy clenched her teeth when the line went dead. It wasn’t enough that she constantly helped out with one thing or another, but now Livvy was hanging up on her too? Amanda’s familiar lecture about doing too much for Livvy came to mind and she couldn’t chase it out no matter how much she wanted to. But now wasn’t the time to work through it. She didn’t want to burden the kids with her anger so she set it aside and got down to the task at hand. It wouldn’t be the first time the kids had fallen asleep alone—it was just that it usually happened when their mother was working late.

  Chrissy unlocked the door to Livvy’s house a few minutes later and went through the nightly routine with the kids. When the boys finished brushing their teeth and slammed the door to their room, Chrissy turned to Rosa. Her eyebrows were pulled slightly together, and her dark eyes reflected worry beyond her years.

  “Are you okay here?” Chrissy asked. Rosa usually didn’t have a problem with nights when Livvy was working and the kids were on their own. But Rosa, like Chrissy, seemed to realize there was something different about tonight. “Remember to lock up after I go. Your mom will be home soon.”

  “Where is she?” Rosa asked.

  Chrissy hedged. Rosa had been through a lot in her young life—no father, her mom’s failed marriage to Marius, and taking on responsibility for her twin brothers. “She’s not at work, is she?”

  Chrissy didn’t know how to answer that. Rosa looked away, her face looking tight and pinched. Livvy had lied to her own daughter to avoid having to tell Chrissy the truth. How was Chrissy supposed
to explain that without making Livvy look even worse?

  “It was a friend’s birthday, that’s all.”

  Rosa nodded and looked at the floor. “His name is Doug,” she said, her voice soft as a secret. “He calls her all the time now.”

  “Oh,” was all Chrissy said, trying to keep her disappointment under wraps. She stayed in the doorway a few more seconds, before admitting to herself she didn’t have anything else to say. She hadn’t been around the kids much until a few years ago when she’d moved back to Idaho Falls. Livvy’s divorce from Marius had just become final and Livvy was taking her new role as a single mom very seriously. But sometimes Chrissy wondered what Rosa had been exposed to through her mother’s life before that. It was obvious she didn’t like her mom dating any more than Chrissy did.

  “You guys can stay at my place, if you’d rather,” Chrissy offered.

  Rosa lifted her chin and met Chrissy’s eyes again, trying to look strong. “We’re okay,” she said as if offended by the insinuation that she wasn’t. She was thirteen after all.

  “All right, but lock the door behind me and call if you need anything, okay?”

  Rosa nodded.

  Chrissy grabbed her puffy red coat from the couch where she’d put it and pulled her beanie cap back over her head. She shut the front door a minute later, and waited for the sound of the lock clicking into place before she turned to face the night. It was really cold, and she pulled her hands into her sleeves as she walked down the front steps. The night was clear, a billion stars breaking through the darkness. The three-quarter moon gave everything a polished look.

  She’d found her place well enough in Idaho—in the Mexican community and the Mormon one. But she still felt like a bit of an outsider everywhere she went. She was Mexican—but not Catholic or surrounded by a large, loud, and loving family. She was Mormon—but not white or married with kids, even though her own children would have been teenagers now if she’d gotten an early start on her family like so many Mormon women did. In some ways she felt like a parent to Livvy’s kids, but she wasn’t, not really.