Silence hung between us. “Speak up, Wood,” I prompted him.
He took a big breath and his eyes met mine. “I just hope you two... I think, I wonder,” he stammered, “I wonder if it isn’t too late for you and Lucas.”
“Woodie!” Clarissa scolded him.
His words hit me so hard I was left staring at him blankly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cassie sweeping the tears from her cheeks with the tips of her fingers.
He fidgeted, but forged on regardless, “Maybe you should try to move on, try to build a new life for yourselves.” He turned to Cassie. “Josh said Mrs. Loretti is a great woman. She could be a great mom to Lucas and you could have the same agreement you had before… an open adoption.”
It was as if Woodie had slapped Cassie across the face. Her shoulders caved in, but it didn’t last. She sprang back. “Shut up, Woodie!” She stepped toward him. “I am Lucas’s mother and I’m tired of hearing people tell me I should just move aside. I’m tired of people bullying me into giving up on him because it’d be better for him, for me… for Josh.” She challenged me with her gaze. “I’m not having an open adoption. I intend to be there for Lucas every morning when he opens his eyes and at the end of each day to kiss him goodnight, and every moment in between.” She stopped staring at Woodie to focus on me. “I’ll be doing that no matter what.”
My voice was dead cold when I asked, “Whether it’s with or without me?”
“Please, stop!” My mom cried out.
I had managed to make the two women I loved cry, and humiliated my best friend at the same time. So, yeah, maybe it would be better if I shut the fuck up. That was when the lights of a car broke into the night outside. Clarissa stood and went to peep through the glass of the entrance door.
“God, no!”
I joined her. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…
I came out on the porch. The door of my father’s Escalade slammed and he walked around the hood of his SUV. With the lights of the house throwing a bright halo over the muddy driveway, I saw how red his face was. His skin looked more sallow. Before he even opened his mouth, I knew he was wasted.
“I knew I’d find you here,” he blurted out.
“Go away.”
“I’m here for your mother.” He nodded toward where her Honda was parked. “She’s got nothing to do with these white trash losers. I’m taking her back home where she belongs.”
My mom was already crying because of me. She didn’t need any more drama. I opened my mouth to give him a warning, but I was nudged aside.
Cassie now stood in front of me. She held a rifle—Mrs. O’s ancient air rifle—and it was pointed straight at my father’s chest. “MacBride, what did I say the last time I was in Steep Hill?”
“Cass, drop the gun. Let me take care of it.” She didn’t react. “Please.”
“No way. I’m tired of this insect fucking up my life. Someone has to stop him.”
My anger turned into blind rage. All my muscles tightened and I tilted my head forward. “I’d like to see my son somewhere other than through the glass of a jail visitors’ room.”
She shook her head. “This man will never let us be a family.”
I stepped forward and stood a couple of inches away from the tip of the barrel. “For once, try and think straight.”
Her gaze burned into me. “For once, try and do something.”
Behind me, my father whistled. “Your little bitch has quite a temper. I bet she’s a spitfire in the sack.”
His words shot me in the back. My fists curled and my jaw locked. Something snapped inside me. My brain shut down and my guts took over. I spun around and walked down the steps of the porch, one at a time, my eyes pinned on my father.
When there was less than a yard left between us, he snarled, “Now what are you going to do? The girl’s right. You talk a lot but—”
My fist rocketed into his jaw. Blood splashed out of his mouth. That wasn’t enough for me. I aimed at his stomach next. He bent double with a groan of pain and it made me feel better. I grabbed him by the back of his neck and spun him around.
Next I drove his head straight against the front of the SUV. I heard the crack his nose made against the metal. I did it again. And again and again, ignoring my mom’s screams.
Hands like paws pulled me backwards. I resisted, but my father’s body was now limp. I let the hands win over and I stumbled away from my father who was now sliding down and crumbling on the muddy ground. He was unconscious; his face a mass of blood and bruised flesh.
Woodie knelt down at his side, checking his pulse. “He’s alive, thank God.”
“I’ll call an ambulance.” I think that was Clarissa.
“No!” Woodie managed to lift my father up over his shoulders. “I’m taking him to the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you.” My mother was at Woodie’s side. “We’ll need to come up with a story. I won’t have my boy ending up in jail because of that man.”
It went fast. Woodie threw my father onto the backseat of his truck, then went straight around to the driver’s seat. The engine roared. Mom opened the door. She was about to climb in but stopped, “Joshua, whatever happens next, you will shut your mouth. Don’t try and make things right by sacrificing yourself to the police. I know how you are.” Mechanically, I helped her get into the passenger’s seat. I closed the door. She lowered the window. “You lost it tonight but, truth be told, I should have shot him the day I heard how he’d gotten rid of my grandson. It doesn’t make what you just did right though.” She shook her head. “Nothing that has happened because of your father is right anyway.”
I watched the truck speed down the driveway until its taillights disappeared into the night. Slowly I turned back into the house. Cassie hadn’t moved an inch. She still held onto the rifle as if her life depended on it, but it faced down. I walked up the steps. The skin on my knuckles started to burn. I wriggled my fingers.
I reached Cassie’s level, my arm almost brushing against hers. Our gazes locked and then held onto each other.
Her eyes gleamed with tears. Her lips trembled. “Josh, I—”
I shook my head. “I hope I’ve done enough this time.”
I went back into the house and the door slammed shut behind me.
CHAPTER 21
Cassie
“Go to YouTube and enter Sweet Second duet.”
I shouldn’t have taken Shawn’s call. I was going to be late and Josh would be waiting for me. He’d spent the last ten days in Estevez’s constituency in Arizona. We hadn’t had time together since Christmas and Steep Hill. And really then, all our energy had been spent on damage control after Josh beat his father to a bloody pulp.
“Can I call you back later tonight?” Shawn was in L.A. By the time I was back from Josh’s cocktail party it’d still be early evening in California.
“Open your laptop and go to YouTube. Now. You won’t regret it.”
I sighed and checked myself in the full-length mirror. I was all dressed-up, so I could afford one minute. I sat in front of my ancient laptop that dated back to high school.
“Are you on it?” Shawn was getting impatient at the other side of the line.
“Hang on. My computer is crazy slow.” I forced my foot to stop tapping against the table leg. I hated surprises. “Are you still able to fit through doorways? With this first hit of yours, your head must match the size of your ego. It must be tough to move around.”
Over Christmas, Sweet Second had climbed to the top of Billboard’s Digital Songs chart and, overnight, Shawn Dupret had moved from being a cool Indie lead singer to a nationwide rising star. And I was already dreaming of my royalty check.
“Ha-ha!” I heard him puff on his cigarette. “If you’re asking how I manage to lead a normal life with dozens of screaming girls following me everywhere, the answer is… I’m not leading a normal life anymore. But ‘normal’ is so over-rated, babe.”
“Glad you’re keeping
your head on your shoulders.” I finally hit on the right page and clicked on the ‘play’ button straight away.
… And there I was. All over the freakin’ screen!
It was that night in Phoenix back in September and my one and only duet with Shawn. The sound was pretty bad, but it was weird to hear myself singing. I hadn’t done any demo recording, so I wasn’t yet used to it.
I listened for one minute, then paused the video. “Okay, our groundbreaking performance has been filmed. Not really a sex tape or anything sleazy like that, is it?”
“Check the number of hits.”
I did. My stomach collapsed while my heart beat its way up into my throat. It had almost reached the half-a-million mark.
“Fuck!”
“Yes, babe.”
I started flicking through the dozens and dozens of comments underneath the video but I struggled to read anything. The words jumped around in front of me making little sense.
“People want to know who I am.” That much I got.
“Correct. So do my producers. I had to put Will in a straight-jacket so I could be the one to call you. He’s hanging out in the next room.”
“Why?”
Shawn gave me a very uncool chuckle. “Because he wants to introduce you to my producers and claim some of the glory.”
“I wrote the song with you. I’m sure your producers already know that.” Otherwise my newly-appointed lawyer would make sure to remind them.
“Damn, Cass, you’re slow on the uptake. This time it isn’t about you-the Songwriter. It’s about you-the Singer-and-totally-gorgeous-duet-partner.”
I let his words settle down in my brain. “You mean—“
“—yeah, I mean, fly your ass down to L.A. right now and put your warmest smile on, because you’re gonna meet a helluva lot of people. Important people.”
The silence that followed was totally anti-climactic. It was the breakthrough I’d never let myself dream of, but I kept my mouth shut and simply leaned against the back of my chair.
“Cassandra O’Malley, hellooo? Did you just die and go to Heaven to sit between Cobain and Morrison?”
“I can’t come. Right now, writing songs is all I can do. We’ve had a big setback with the adoption and—”
“—you can’t say ‘no,’ Cass. You’re not going to say ‘no.’” Shawn’s voice was dead-cold. I’d never heard him sound like this before. Not with me anyway.
The DNA test had come back and Josh was in the clear. Trisha and the D.C. caseworker had checked our story with Lenor. The judge seemed to be happy. So, it was all good but I wasn’t going to stretch myself too thin right before Lucas came to live with us. “I can say ‘no.’ I have to.”
“Why? It’s just a duet. You hop on down to L.A. in first class, all expenses paid, and come and spend a couple of days with me to record the song. You meet a lot of great people and lunch with Will. He’s your agent now. Then, we wait and see what the studio executives think of the duet.” Another puff on his cigarette. “That’s it. I’m not asking you to drown your newborn.”
It sounded so simple. No big deal.
I checked the time in the bottom right corner of my screen. Shawn was right: I had to move my ass, but not to L.A.
“I was on my way out when you called and I really can’t be late. I’ll call you tonight, I pro—“
“—I want your answer tonight, Cass. Please don’t screw up like you did back in Phoenix.”
The guy had no fucking idea. “Listen, Shawn, I know how much I owe you. But we’re not in the same place in our lives right now. I’m married and I can’t make decisions like that without talking to Josh first.”
Maybe I should have checked with my husband first before pointing Gran’s rifle straight at his father? Maybe Jack MacBride wouldn’t have spent a week in hospital? And maybe Miranda wouldn’t have had to bribe him into keeping his mouth shut with a fat cash payment. Maybe, maybe…
“Talk to you later!” I hung up.
The reception I had to attend with Josh was right here in Georgetown, but I decided to call a cab.so I could make up the time I’d lost on YouTube.
When I reached my destination, I paid and got out of the cab. I stood with my feet glued to the sidewalk, then looked up at the exterior of the Hotel Langford. It was like traveling back in time and finding myself in front of the Oxford Union. Shivers ran through me. I didn’t want to relive that night, when I’d told Josh about Lucas, when Josh had belonged to another woman.
I shook myself. Josh belonged to me now and I belonged to him. What happened in Steep Hill was only a blip in our journey together. I stepped confidently into the plush hallway. In front of me spread an expanse of shiny marble tiles and antique rugs. Presidents had slept in this hotel and I understood why. This place was the real deal.
Out of the corner of my eye, I checked my reflection in the glass panel on the left of the hallway. I wasn’t going to fool anyone even with this classic black dress and matching stilettos. I’d been to the hairdresser in the afternoon to have my curls professionally tamed into a conservative bun, but the color still looked too brash, fake, even if, I swear, I wasn’t a bottle blond.
No matter if I spent my hard-earned cash, I still looked like a Midwestern gal trying too hard.
“Can I help you, madam?” I’d never been at the receiving end of a ‘madam’ before. Either I’d aged prematurely or my makeover was paying off. I smiled at the receptionist and asked for directions. I wasn’t directed, I was escorted to an elevator and then down a grand corridor to a double paneled door guarded by two dark-suited guys with little plugs in their ears. I’d noticed a few more Men in Black on my way up.
“Your invitation please Ma’am?” one of them asked.
Was the Secret Service entertaining here tonight or what? Well, it was Washington D.C. after all. Josh had asked me to bring proof of ID and I understood why now
The room I stepped into was far bigger than I’d expected. It was a ballroom topped by a dome with golden decorations all over the ceiling. Between that and the glasses of champagne circling around me, I was already feeling a little tipsy. I grabbed the first cup of bubbly I could get my hands on. That way I had something in my hand when I started my quest for Josh.
The average age of the crowd was north of forty. Or fifty. I must have looked straight out of kindergarten next to all these silver foxes. I zigzagged between the dozens of guests, loneliness starting to creep inside me. But I caught sight of that bitch Megan, and then my eyes settled on Josh. Jealousy bubbled from within. What were they doing together? I looked for something to throw at the girl—something yucky and sticky—but found nothing.
I calmed down because they weren’t actually talking to each other but listening to an older man whose face was familiar. I wasn’t into politics but I watched TV and I was pretty certain I’d seen him before. Josh’s six foot two frame hovered over the man who was speaking, but his composure was one of respect. There was no way I was going to butt in, so I hid in a corner and tried to make my champagne last.
It wasn’t right though. I’d come here to learn about Josh’s world and going all anti-social now wasn’t going to make it. I forced myself to crack a smile at some neighboring guests. They smiled back so I stepped into their little group and tried to follow what they were talking about. The next education bill or something. I prayed nobody was going to ask my opinion. Because I had none.
From where I stood, I couldn’t miss how Megan stole some hungry sideway glances at my man. But he wasn’t looking back at her. Ha-ha! Meanwhile, the politician was taking his sweet time and I was getting bored.
“Mrs. MacBride?” and then another “Mrs. MacBride?” Finally the voice reached me and I turned around. It took me a couple of seconds to place the guy’s face.
“Hi! You’re Peter…?”
“Peter Hewitt.”
“Nice to see you again.” Not really, but it was Washington and I was here for Josh. Hewitt had Estevez’s ear.
> Peter took two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed one to me, while taking my empty glass away. Two brews was my weekly quota for booze, so this was dangerous territory for me.
He nodded at the older man opposite Josh. “Senator Leland Van Ark,” he said. I answered with an arched eyebrow, so he explained, “He’s the Senate Majority Leader.”
I kept myself from whistling. Not really the place.
“And the pretty girl next to your husband is—”
“Megan Alistair. We’ve already been introduced. She’s an old friend from Georgetown.”
Hewitt took a sip of his bubbly and the next words hissed through his lips. “I see.”
I shifted my body so that I could face him straight on. “And what do you see exactly, Peter?”
“Joshua MacBride is a smart man. He operates openly enough so that the women in his life don’t suspect anything underhanded is going on.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Tsk-tsk, Mrs. MacBride, you’re betraying your roots. The Langford is hardly a honkytonk.”
“And what are my roots? Do tell me, Mr. Hewitt.” I wasn’t going to point a rifle at this guy, but if my words were bullets, he’d look like a slice of Swiss cheese by now.
“The same as Joshua’s, and that’s why the outcome of your marriage is a foregone conclusion.”
I couldn’t help asking. “Why?”
“Because ambition is the engine behind your husband’s success, not love, although...” he tilted his head sideways as if conceding a point, “… he’s very good at this young family man charade. Voters love that and he knows it.”
I wanted to break this asshole’s nose. “Get out of my sight.”
He raised his glass and turned. I watched him walk away and looked for where his salute had been directed.
“I told you to avoid Hewitt,” Josh cut in. His jaw was locked.
“Good evening to you too! Long time no see.”
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