Shooting the Moon

by Brenda Novak

  “Just to badger me some more about why we wanted Lauren’s number.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No, I said I had a friend who was looking for a good lay.” Tank’s smile turned into a devilish grin. “He nearly had a coronary. I love to mess with that guy’s head.”

  “He want her back?” Harley asked.

  Tank scratched his belly. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  “Why? What’s so appealing about her?”

  “Didn’t you look at her, man? She’s gorgeous!”

  “Her sister was even prettier, but there’s plenty of pretty women out there who are less spoiled.”

  “You’re assuming Lauren is just like Audra used to be,” Tank said. “She’s not.”

  “She can’t be that different,” Harley responded. “She’s cut from the same cloth. She has the same asshole for a father, the same nervous Nellie for a mother, and she had the same snobbish upbringing. She still lives in the same damned fortress, for Pete’s sake! So tell Damien to take it from me and stay the hell away from Lauren and anyone else even distantly related to her.”

  Tank anchored his fingers above the lintel and let it support most of his weight. “Yeah, well, I think she’s pretty much made that decision for him. He’s tried to get her back, and she won’t budge. I just wish he’d quit moonin’ over her. Watching him wallow in misery is so damned annoying, you know? What does he think, no one else has ever gone through a break-up?”

  Harley gazed at the boxes cluttering the floor and knew Tank had done his share of hurting. “You seeing anyone now?” he asked.

  “Damien set me up on a blind date with one of his paralegals a couple months ago. Woman by the name of Rhonda. He only did it because she was crazy about him and he wanted to distract her, but it worked. She doesn’t call him anymore, and we catch a movie together every once in a while. What about you?”

  “My business is my lover.”

  “Sex life’s that good, huh?”

  Harley shrugged. “I’m busy. When I get home at night, I’m exhausted, too tired to miss sex or anything else a woman has to offer.”

  Skepticism etched a disbelieving frown on Tank’s face. “No way. I don’t believe you’ve changed that much.”

  Harley couldn’t help laughing. Tank was right, up to a point. He missed having a robust sex life, but he craved having someone who was emotionally significant to him far more. The older he got, the more convinced he became that life wasn’t just about financial success or physical gratification. But he’d left his heart in Portland with an unborn baby when he moved to California ten years ago, and even though he’d had a few superficial relationships since then, no one had ever been able to fill the void. “Maybe your brother knows another female paralegal he can set me up with,” he joked.

  “I’ll ask him,” Tank promised. “Just be forewarned. If he sets you up with anyone like Rhonda, she’ll be pudgy, pasty, too bold and emotionally starved.”

  “God, Tank, I thought you liked her!”

  “I do. I’m desperate, so the relationship works for me. But that’s hardly the kind of woman I see you with.” He gave up hanging on the lintel and started down the hall, the floor creaking in protest. “Gotta run. The whole crew’ll be waiting for me. Are you comin’ back tonight?”

  “Yeah. That okay?” Harley called after him.

  “Sure. Stay as long as you like.” The creaking stopped as Tank paused in the hall. “What are you gonna do before your dinner with Lauren and Brandon? You want to make a few extra bucks and come out on the job with me?”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to get my hair cut and buy some new clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with the haircut and clothes you got now?”

  “Nothing. I just need to look…I don’t know, more fatherly, I guess.”

  There was a pause and for a moment, Harley thought Tank had disappeared silently into his room. But then he spoke. “Can I give you a piece of advice, Harley?”

  Advice? From Tank? “Shoot.”

  “Clothes and hair don’t matter to kids, man. Just be yourself.”

  The floor started creaking again, a door closed and the shower went on.

  Harley laced his fingers behind his head and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Just be yourself. Sounded easy. Made sense. But his “self” hadn’t been good enough for Audra, and he was afraid he’d run into the same problem again, this time with Brandon. Especially if Quentin Worthington had poisoned his son against him.

  He doesn’t need you.

  “Maybe not,” Harley conceded, “but I need him.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LAUREN GLANCED nervously at her wristwatch. It was already late afternoon and she still hadn’t tried to contact Harley. She should have called him hours ago, first thing in the morning. Instead she’d procrastinated and was continuing to put off the inevitable by playing a game of Hearts with Brandon and his best friend, Scott, both of whom she’d just picked up from Mt. Marley Academy for Boys and Girls.

  “What happened today at school, guys?” she asked, tossing a five of clubs on top of Brandon’s ace of spades.

  “You can’t throw that,” her nephew protested. “I led with a spade so you have to throw a spade.”

  “Only if I have one,” she told him. “I’m out, so I can play any suit I want, remember?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t give you any point cards. That ace is going to beat anything we throw, which means you’re probably going to get stuck with the queen of spades. Unless you’re holding it yourself, of course.”

  Brandon said nothing. He kept his attention on his cards, his brow wrinkling in concentration.

  “I asked you two about school,” she said as Scott laid down the dreaded queen of spades. She watched her nephew’s face for any sign of displeasure that he’d just picked up another thirteen points, but saw none. Was he trying to shoot the moon? Gathering all point cards in the deck—every heart and the queen of spades—at the risk of missing one or more wasn’t an easy thing to do, even with a good hand. If he succeeded, however, he’d set her and Scott back twenty-six points and win the game.

  “School was okay, I guess,” Brandon murmured, finally answering her question, but his eyes were still riveted to the fan of cards in his hand.

  “What did you do at recess?” she asked.

  Brandon led with the queen of hearts—almost a sure sign that he was trying to shoot the moon. But considering what Lauren held in her hand, he didn’t have enough high cards to take the rest of the tricks. She considered playing the ace of hearts and letting him learn the hard way, then gave him something smaller to see if he could pull it off without an adult and veteran player working against him.

  “Mallory and Sarah chase us every recess,” Scott complained. “They won’t leave us alone.” He tossed Brandon a jack of hearts and a taunting smile. “You just took another heart, Brandon. You’re gonna lose big! What do you have so far, twenty points?”

  If Brandon had twenty points already, he only needed to collect another six to shoot the moon. Lauren suspected Scott didn’t understand the game nearly as well as he said he did. Otherwise he would’ve realized that throwing such a high heart at this stage wasn’t wise. “Those girls have liked you guys all year,” she said, keeping the conversation on a neutral topic so she wouldn’t give her nephew away.

  Brandon chose to play an eight of clubs, which was probably a mistake. Lauren’s last card of that suit was the ten, and all the face cards were out. She’d have to take the pile and any hearts Scott tossed into it, which meant Brandon wouldn’t be able to capture all the points.

  Sure enough, when his friend piled a heart on top of her ten, Brandon groaned. “Oh, man. I was so close. Look at this.” He fanned out the cards he’d already taken. “I’ve got the queen of spades and nine of the thirteen hearts. I was only missing four.”

  “You did great, babe,” Lauren told him. “It’s tough to shoot the moon. You have to be
holding a lot of good cards and play them just right.”

  “And if you don’t make it, you’re in major trouble,” Scott pointed out.

  Brandon scowled at him. “But if you do make it, you’re the bomb. I would’ve won for sure.”

  “You’ll have other chances,” Lauren promised.

  “Does that mean we can play another game?” he asked.

  “Not now. Scott’s mother is expecting him at home, you have to do your homework, and I have to start dinner.”

  “Aw, can’t we go out for dinner tonight?”

  “No, I’ve already defrosted a couple of steaks. I thought we could grill them outside on the patio.” She’d also made homemade rolls, scalloped potatoes, a candied almond salad and Brandon’s favorite dessert—cheesecake. Keeping herself busy with domestic tasks had helped her avoid thinking about Harley Nelson. But the time for his arrival was fast approaching and she couldn’t put off dealing with the situation any longer.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and walk Scott across the street while I start the barbecue?” she said.

  Taking her suggestion, Brandon followed his friend to the front of the house. As soon as Lauren heard the door slam, she took Harley’s card from her pocket, wiped sweaty palms on her blue jeans and dialed his number.

  I’m only doing what’s best, she told herself. But if that was true, why did she feel so terrible about it?

  Someone answered, but it wasn’t Harley. It was a woman.

  Lauren drew a bolstering breath. He’s no good. He probably goes from one relationship to another, breaking hearts along the way, and this is just the next person in line. “Is Harley Nelson there?”

  “I’m afraid not, but I’d sure like to reach him. This is Angela at Hudson & Taylor’s. He was shopping here earlier. When he paid for his purchases, he left his cell phone on the counter.”

  Evidently she’d been wrong, in this instance, anyway. But that didn’t make her feel any better. She couldn’t reach him, and he was supposed to appear at her door in—she cast another nervous glance at her watch—an hour.

  “Do you know his home number?” the woman asked.

  “I have the number where he’s staying,” she said, grateful for whatever had prompted Harley to give it to her. “Hang on a second.”

  Taking the cordless phone, she went to her bedroom and found the slip of paper Harley had handed her just before she left the restaurant. She rattled off the number, then hung up and dialed it herself, far more eager to talk to Harley now that the possibility of being unable to reach him seemed all too likely.

  “’Lo?”

  “Harley?”

  “No, it’s Tank. Who’s this?”

  “Lauren Worthington. I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to date your brother Damien.”

  “’Course I remember you. We went to high school together.”

  Part of the rowdy crowd, Tank had been popular, but Lauren had never really spoken to him until two years ago, when Damien had taken her to a family birthday party. “I’m looking for Harley Nelson,” she said, fidgeting nervously. “It’s important that I talk to him. Is he around?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen him all day. But if he’s late or somethin’, don’t give up on him. I know he wouldn’t miss dinner at your place.”

  “That’s just it,” Lauren said. “He’s planning to see Brandon, but I…um…I forgot that Brandon won’t be here. He’s got…” Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an event important enough to justify canceling, but nothing presented itself. “…something he can’t miss,” she finished lamely.

  Tank hesitated as though trying to decide whether or not to believe her, and she fought the temptation to prop up the lie with more senseless babble.

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “I know Harley will be disappointed.”

  “Yeah…um…so will Brandon.” Except that he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Closing her eyes, Lauren briefly remembered a conversation she’d had with Brandon just a few months ago.

  I hope I’ll be tall like my dad.

  How do you know your dad was tall?

  My mom used to talk about him.

  What did she say?

  That he was the cutest boy in school.

  He was certainly handsome. She’d winked at him. But you’re going to be even better-looking.

  He’d smiled, but seemed to sink into a rather somber mood almost immediately after. Grandfather doesn’t think I look anything like my dad.

  Lauren had almost admitted that Quentin Worthington probably didn’t see any resemblance between father and son because he didn’t want to. But getting caught up in a conversation that would only disparage Harley wouldn’t do Brandon any good. Her father had told him enough negative things about Harley already.

  Grandfather didn’t see as much of Harley as your mother and I did. Maybe he doesn’t remember.

  That’s not it, Brandon had surprised her by saying. I think he’s afraid I’ll turn out just like him.

  From the mouths of babes….

  “I’ll give him the message you called,” Tank said.

  Lauren massaged her temple. “Okay. And let him know he left his cell phone at Hudson & Taylor’s, will you? A woman by the name of Angela has it.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Lauren?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Harley’s…well, he’s—ah, shit, never mind. It’s none of my business. I’ll let you go.”

  “What?” she prompted. Had Harley said something about her? About Brandon? About his plans?

  Tank seemed to struggle with the words. “If it doesn’t work out for Harley to see Brandon tonight, I hope you’ll consider letting him come over another time. He’s pretty excited about meeting his boy.”

  This, Lauren didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t think of Harley’s feelings. She already had her own heart and her parents and Brandon to consider. Even Audra’s memory seemed to be pulling at her. Lauren just couldn’t tell which direction her sister would want her to go. After her relationship with Harley, Audra had grown very bitter and blamed their father for most of her mistakes. If she were alive, would she be in Harley’s camp? If so, why hadn’t she ever contacted him?

  Ignoring the melancholy that threatened whenever she thought of Audra, Lauren said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” but she warned herself to forget about it instead.

  “Who was that?” Brandon asked, toting his backpack into the kitchen as she hung up the phone.

  Lauren whirled at the sound of his voice. She’d been so wrapped up in her conversation with Tank that she hadn’t heard him come in. “No one you know, sweetie.”

  “Did Grandma and Grandpa call today?”

  “I talked to them this morning.”

  “When are they coming home?”

  “Not until the middle of June, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Delving into his backpack, Brandon began to spread his books on the table. “I have tons of homework,” he complained. “I don’t know why Mrs. Cooper had to give us so much today. Fourth grade isn’t supposed to be so hard.”

  “It’s good for you,” Lauren replied automatically. Brandon was enrolled in one of the best private schools in the state and usually had quite a bit of homework. But Lauren’s thoughts weren’t on his education. She was wondering what she’d do if Harley didn’t go back to Tank’s—if he didn’t get her message. She certainly couldn’t stay here and hope to turn him away at the door.

  “Come on,” she said suddenly. “Pack your stuff and bring it with you. We’re going to Kimberly’s.”

  “What?” Brandon paused in mid-motion. “I thought you were making dinner.”

  “We’ll take it with us and finish it there.”

  He gave her a mystified look. “You’re acting weird, Aunt Lauren, you know that?”

  “Just because I want to go to Kimberly’s? We go there all the time.”

  “But we don’t carry our dinner
over there.”

  “It’ll be fun.” Hopping off the stool at the desk, she hurried to the large walk-in pantry to get the picnic basket.

  “Do I have to spend the night again?” he asked.

  “Don’t you like staying with Kimberly?” She found the picnic basket easily enough and hauled it out to the kitchen, where she started gathering their meal so they could leave as soon as possible.

  “I guess,” he said. “But I’d rather stay home. It’s a school night, remember?”

  “Isn’t that my line?” She forced a smile, hoping he’d cooperate without her having to push. She hated to make him go to Kimberly’s if he didn’t want to, but he had to go somewhere, and Kimberly’s place was safe. “We can make an exception every once in a while, you know,” she added, getting the salad from the refrigerator.

  Instead of packing up, he sank into his seat and started flipping his pencil against the table. Tap, tap, tap, tap…

  “Then can I go to Scott’s instead?”

  “Not tonight.”

  Tap, tap, tap… “Why?”

  “Because Kimberly’s dog really likes it when you come to visit,” she said, searching for the plastic lid that would seal the bowl containing the steaks and marinade.

  “I have to go to Kimberly’s because her dog likes me?” he asked with a grimace. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

  Too nervous to tolerate the noise, Lauren wanted to grab the pencil out of Brandon’s hand. They needed to get out of the house quickly. What if Harley arrived early?

  “Just get moving, okay?” she said, keeping her voice calm only with great effort. Brandon had some legitimate points—she was acting strange, spending the night on a weekday did break house rules, and they didn’t generally pack up their dinner at the last minute and flee from home. But she couldn’t explain her reasons, and she didn’t have time to argue with him. She was the adult. He was the child. She needed him to obey, and fast.

  Finding the lid, she covered the bowl and forced it inside the already crowded basket, then turned her attention to wrapping the rolls in plastic.

  Tap…tap…tap… “But I don’t see why Scott’s house isn’t just as good,” he persisted, slouching lower in his seat. “I mean, it’s across the street. You wouldn’t even have to come get me for school.”