His American Classic (Part 1)

by G J Morgan

  And there it was, my first published work, I couldn’t help but grin.

  I was turning wolf.

  * * *

  A bus stopped and what seemed like the whole top deck turned to stare through my open window. I very nearly waved. Vince could’ve splashed out for a room with a chair, I thought, sat upright on the bed, a pile of letters and a bag of tube station cherries on my lap. For all my worrying, the letters were actually quite pleasant, they just missed their granddaughter, that was all. Questions of when I’d be back, what my plans were for the future, how I was coping, how they missed Molly, and of course Cassie. It was strange, Rose talking to me like a son, I’d met them only twice, once for the funeral but I barely said a word, and neither did they, it wasn’t a time to talk. The other time we met was a few years back, they flew over just after Molly was born, but that was a hard week too. Fresh out of the neonatal unit Molly barely slept, then there was Lou and Cassie, they had a lot to talk about, things they needed to resolve, me and Rose left them to it, washed the dishes, tidied up, talked about how she grew up, our favourite authors, stuff to fill the silence.

  I wasn’t expecting how they treated me that time we first met, believe me, I was prepared for an attack of sorts. I mean, I was hardly the ideal son in law, not even a US citizen, not even a career. God, I even knocked up their daughter before I’d put a ring on her finger. They should have hated me, but any hate they had toward me, I never felt or noticed. They were either decent liars or just decent people, so far, they’d given me no reason to doubt the latter.

  Lou, he was retired Navy, loved telling bad jokes, enjoyed a jar or two. Rose was a sweet little thing, all wrinkles and boobs, she worked in a seaside café on the beach, one hell of a cook, her broiled grouper and her molasses bread was legendary, hopefully one day I’d get to taste it for myself. Cassie always hoped one day they would move to LA, but Florida suited their health and lifestyle so like my Mom they too became only voices on a phone or letters on a page.

  Rose was the mouthpiece of the relationship. Lou was far from shy in person, but all other methods of communication were left to his wife, birthday cards, Thanksgiving phone calls, though I doubted Lou had much choice. She liked to talk did my mother-in-law, both on paper and by phone, trust me I’d seen our old bills, and her letters were no different. They went on for pages and pages and what could’ve been said in a few words was normally written at unnecessary length, like the stack I’d just finished reading.

  I felt worse for reading them, listening to a mother pour her heart out, page after page. I had no excuse to justify why I’d ignored them for so long, I wasn’t a bad person, my heart was just doing a lot of things back then, not all of it good. I took another cherry from off my lap, picked up the last letter, the most recent, the one Mum felt obliged to reply to, as soon as I saw the handwriting I understood why.

  Tom,

  I don’t know where to start with this. I’m not one for writing and I’ve never been great with words. But I’m angry and you’re upsetting my wife and I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t step in at this point.

  We understand how hard it must be since Cassie’s passing, it has been hard on us all. She was my little girl, my world. If it wasn’t for having to be here for my wife I would’ve found a way to be up there with her too I assure you. I’m not ashamed to say some days I have felt like ending it all, Tom. I may look a big man, but this had really knocked me for six. A daughter shouldn’t die before her father, and no father should have to bury his own child.

  All I have of Cassie now is Molly and yourself and that is something neither me or Rose want to miss out on. We tried to talk to you at the funeral but it was a tough day for us all so instead we decided to write. I never thought you would ignore us for so long, Tom. I expected better and you have let me down. But that is the past now and that is a circle that can’t be squared. No point dwelling on it.

  Me and the wife have been talking. We want you both to come and live with us. Our house is big enough, the schools are great, and it would be easy for you to find work either here in Clearwater or even in Tampa. Maybe you could drive a cab, there’s plenty of tourists.

  It doesn’t have to be long term. I know the sound of sharing a house with your in-laws may not sound ideal, but we would try to give you all the space you need and not let our old age impact your daily routine. Once you are settled you could then look at getting your own place, and think about meeting someone again, perhaps have more children one day. You’re young, Tom, there’s plenty of life to be had out here.

  I don’t want you to feel pressured with making a decision, but I assure you we aren’t going away. We deserve to be able to see Molly as much as anyone else and Cassie would agree. You need to speak to us and soon, Rose is in bits, she is hardly sleeping and I worry for her health.

  A man needs to be in charge of his affairs, Tom. You need to start taking charge. Right now, you are being a coward. Please, from one father to another. You have to speak to us. I don’t know what we have done wrong but we don’t deserve this. I hope you contact us soon. I really do. If not, we’ll have no other option then to look at other alternatives.

  I hope you understand. I’m writing this with all I have left.

  I’ve enclosed a photo of Cassie when she was a similar age to Molly. She was always climbing that orange tree. I’d like to think one day Molly could be climbing it too.

  Yours faithfully.

  Lou

  I made myself a hot drink, coffee sachet and UHT milk, it wasn’t nice, but bad coffee is better than no coffee at all, as I reread Lou’s letter. I completely agreed with everything he’d written and it was a letter that had to be written and one that needed a reply, which is probably why Mum did what she did and wrote back.

  There was one bit though. The word ‘alternatives’ that Lou would turn to if there was no other option. I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a threat, perhaps by alternatives he just meant talk it out some more, try and meet in person, unless it was a genuine threat, that they would do all they could to take Molly away from me if things didn’t go how they planned. I was sure that wasn’t the case, I knew I wasn’t taking it in the right context.

  I grabbed my laptop and without any idea of where to start I tried to find out what ‘alternatives’ might look like. This was harder than expected, I searched everything though I didn’t know quite where the search should start. Typed ‘paternity’, ‘unwed parents’, ‘father’s rights’, ‘wife died’, ‘grandparent’s rights’, but it was hard to make sense of. I’d have to speak to a professional, Google alone could not give me the answers I would need. Still I searched on, forums and websites, there was so much of it and so much legal jargon it was difficult to know what was relevant and what wasn’t.

  What if the custodial parent dies? Then the custody of the grandchild automatically goes to non-custodial parent unless he or she has been found to be unfit.

  What did ‘non-custodial’ mean, I thought, typing the question from my head onto my keyboard. Had I done things the right way, when I ran back to England after Cassie died? Was I supposed to have notified someone of what I was doing? Did I need to sign anything? Had I broken a law I wasn’t aware of?

  The ‘fitness’ of a parent or parents is the primary issue in a third party’s challenge to the parental preference doctrine. When deciding if a parent is fit, the court considers whether the parent can provide the required support and guidance for the child without state intervention. The court should consider whether the non-parent has superior ability or skills and is neither abusive, unstable nor neglectful.

  Surely Lou and Rose wouldn’t go down that route? Surely they didn’t think Molly was at risk, that I wasn’t ‘fit’ to be her father? I was neither abusive nor unstable. Neglectful bothered me, I’d been chasing celebrities half a continent away, left my only daughter with my elderly mother, with no money or real job. I could
see a lot of courtrooms seeing that as neglect, no matter how much I didn’t see it myself.

  The best way to establish the father’s paternity is by naming him on the baby’s birth certificate. Under US Department of Health and Human Services regulations, all states must offer unwed parents an opportunity to establish paternity by voluntarily signing an acknowledgment of paternity, either at the hospital or at a later time. If the father is not present at the hospital following the birth, the father and mother will instead have to sign the voluntary declaration of paternity at a later time, and have the father’s name added to the birth certificate later.

  I couldn’t remember ever signing a declaration of paternity. I remember the nurse waving paperwork at us at some point, but with Cassie still getting over her C-section and Molly in an incubator trying to survive, I’m guessing our minds wouldn’t have been on legalities and signatures. I’d another memory of Cassie telling me we had to sign some papers just after we’d brought Molly home, but again I assumed that she’d sorted that, unless it was still stuck on top of a pile.

  When paternity is established, the father has the same rights as a father of a child in a marriage. These include such rights as the ability to address custody and visitation issues with the court, and to give other input into decisions regarding the child. Though until paternity is established the father does not have the same legal rights or responsibilities as of a parent.

  Oh God, I hoped that form wasn’t sat at the bottom of a stack of paperwork in our old house somewhere, or worse, thrown out in the trash. I’d need to check that, make sure everything had been done the way it should, and if not, put it right. Not that I knew who to contact, or where to start, or the implications if things that should have been signed hadn’t been. I’m sure it could be rectified. Form or no form, I was her father, I was the parent.

  But again, I was overanalysing, this wasn’t blackmail, it was Lou stating that regardless of my decision to stay in England or go back to America there would have to be an alternative option. There would have to be a way that they could see their granddaughter, that was all that Lou was saying, it wasn’t intimidation.

  Still meant I had an element of doubt – although the smallest of doubts it would still sit in my head and eat away at me till I had some real answers. I would have to do more research, most importantly I’d have to contact Lou and Rose, letter first, ideally, I’d speak to them, once I’d plucked up the courage and not till I knew what answer to give them.

  I looked up at the clock, it was just past five, I stank of car and stale bed sheets. I closed my laptop and ran a shower in the hope the water was at least warm, which it just about was. By the time I’d come out there was a voicemail from Vince, one that made me punch the sky, call him straight back and punch the same sky again, harder than before.

  The next few days were crazy, but I did as Vince asked, darted across London, underground and over ground, met tailors, posted airmail, got measured, collected tickets, found a barber, bought shoes, picked up suits, not to mention following Lilly. Luckily, she didn’t stray too far, she’d spent the whole week being chauffeured from one building to the next, made for awful photos, but Vince was unconcerned, Vince was putting his eggs all in one basket. And that basket was tomorrow night’s award show.

  I still couldn’t quite believe it was happening, that I would be the one in the warm, eating the canapés for once, sipping the champagne, I was not used to such luxury, I’d have to do my best to make sure it looked like it was a luxury I was already accustomed to, look calm and collected, like I was used to rubbing such shoulders. I was excited though, despite the nerves, the anticipation, the pressure. I’d have moments where I couldn’t wait for the day to come, to walk that same red carpet, to see idols up close, but I wasn’t there for a night off. Vince wasn’t paying me to have a good time, me in a tailored suit and £100 shoes wasn’t for my own gain, it was an expensive camouflage, to blend in unnoticed, to get up close and personal. Disguised as a gentleman when inside I was still the same scum, out to do the same horrible deeds.

  Speaking of gentlemen and scum, though there was tangible proof Max would be in London there was no evidence to suggest he would be in attendance at the awards show, though Vince was adamant that Mr Salter would make an appearance and based on his history with Lilly I would have to agree the odds looked in our favour.

  I wished I could say I hated Max and yes, he had done things that would justify any bad feeling I had towards him, but in all honesty the guy was a hard one to stay mad at. He oozed class in everything he did, his films were immaculate, the women he linked arms with too and there were a lot of them. Each woman more attractive than the last, each looking happier than the previous, like with Max it was always a good time and it was a good time only for the advantaged few.

  It was fair to say Max Salter was the man who with one hand you’d clench your fist but with the other you’d end up shaking his hand. Some people wrote that without his money and adulation there would be no lothario reputation and I could see why. He wasn’t the most handsome, he wasn’t the youngest or toughest, but he was the smartest and he would be the one that would take your girl off you and if he couldn’t beat you in a fight, he would try his hardest to make sure, winners and losers, all would end up bloody.

  The whole Lilly fiasco had made it worse, fired up his reputation, made it difficult to say the word ‘Max’ and not immediately think ‘Salter’. I read up a lot about Max, tried to understand what made him tick. Turned out he’d had a hard life, a successful one, but still one that left him with knocks and scars. Again, made me like him even more, us guys are a sucker for someone that kept getting back up, meant you listened when he talked, because you knew he probably had something worthwhile to say. I’d watched quite a few clips, interviews and press, he was quite brutal, very honest, but what he said I’d tend to agree with, though I’d never dare say it. That was why the press and the paparazzi liked him so much, because he was the grenade, explosions and implosions guaranteed, as long you pulled the right question.

  One thing was for sure, no matter the women on his arm, it was clear he still loved Lilly, that was obvious, everything suggested that. I couldn’t find a bad word said about her by Max and whenever she was brought up, which was a lot, he answered with only gushing praise and admiration for her. Even after their split he still continued to talk of her in the highest regard and it came across that it was all done intentionally, he knew that somehow, somewhere, Lilly would read about it, or hear about it and she would know that for him it wasn’t over. That was why it was vital I could find something useful to help me try and figure out where he and Lilly would meet in London. They had to, there was no way Max would not take up the opportunity.

  I checked if he’d visited London before, checked all the images I could find online. From what I could see it was only the once, around the time of all his accolades and awards a couple of years back. He and Lilly were inseparable, her looking beautiful, him looking enigmatic, smart suit, whisky in one hand, regulation cigar in the other. Annoyingly, despite the age gap, they looked great together as a pair, and in my time spent watching her I hadn’t seen Lilly as happy as back when she was by Max’s side. Still there was nothing on the internet that helped me, no clue as to where he might be staying this time around, or where he and Lilly might meet, if at all. Fingers crossed he just turned up, I mean one thing Max loved was to be on the front page, turning up on the same red carpet would certainly give him that, though deep down I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Max didn’t come across as someone who made things straightforward and I was 100% certain finding Max and Lilly wasn’t going to be simple, there would be a twist to all this.

  I closed my laptop, pulled on some clothes. Walked out of my hotel to restaurant after restaurant, cuisine after cuisine, my stomach was spoilt for choice. Ended up in a little noodle bar, authentic and quiet, somewhere I could sit and work out how to be smar
ter than Max.

  17

  Sat in my car I took a glance at myself in the rear-view mirror. Another Bond impression, the same one I’d done in my hotel mirror. It was laughable to be honest, this fancy dress, I had fifty pounds in my pocket and an overdraft in the other, I was hardly Connery. But the transformation would do the job and was probably the best reflection I’d seen of myself since as long as I could remember.

  Pat on the back to Vince in all this, I thought. I’d prepared myself to be let down, to arrive at today with nothing to wear and no way of getting in, but everything he’d promised, the places he’d told me to go, the people he’d told me to meet, had all done as Vince said they would, it was all very ‘under table’, nods and whispers, quiet and efficient, they played their part brilliantly. Now it was just down to me to play mine, not to mention getting inside the place, no matter how genuine my ticket looked in my hand until I was inside it was worthless.

  The only thing missing was company. Vince did say it might not look customary me turning up alone, in fact he said I’d look weird and lonely, offered me a number of an agency where I could get a broad to smile and look pretty for a couple of hours. Looking over at the empty passenger seat beside me I agreed it would feel a little strange arriving at a party like this, just on my own. But I could live with weird and lonely, I couldn’t live with prostitution, no matter how beautiful it could look. I imagined what Cassie would have looked like beside me now, my own little Carole Lombard, she would’ve loved all this, all the dressing up, all the glamour. I felt embarrassed she never had a chance to come to a place like this, if anyone deserved to sparkle tonight it should have been her, not me.