Screwball

by Linda Morris

  His father scoffed.

  “Roll your eyes if you want, but I mean that. But maybe that attitude on my part has been a mistake. Protecting you from yourself hasn’t worked. Whether I approved it or not, the world now knows exactly what you are. What’s done is done. You’ll have to deal with the consequences now instead of hiding behind me. Maybe that will work out for the best.” He had serious doubts about that, but that wasn’t his problem anymore. That thought was half-terrifying, half-exhilarating, like that time in college when he’d bungee jumped off of a bridge in Washington. Standing on the edge right before he’d plunged toward the river below had been exactly like this: balanced on a knife’s edge of catastrophe and possibility.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking the side of some floozy you picked up in a bar over your father’s.”

  Paul just shook his head. His dad never changed, never learned. He did everything in his power to drive people away and then wondered why they were going. “You’re lucky you’re an old man, Dad. I’d punch you in the face for that if you were ten years younger. That floozy is the mother of my child, and your first grandchild, whom you haven’t even bothered to meet. He’ll own this team someday, if there’s anything left by the time you get through with it.”

  “Oh no, he won’t. I’m changing my will. You walk out of here and I’ll see to it that your cousin Noah in Florida inherits the team.”

  Paul bowed his head. “Do your worst, Dad. You always do.”

  He ignored his father’s sputtering, stood and left, encountering a wide-eyed Tracy in the hallway. “I quit, Tracy. Put out a statement that I’m no longer with the organization and all questions are to be directed to Walter Dudley.”

  “Oh my God, Paul. Are you sure? What happened?” Tracy pressed her hand to her mouth. “What are we going to do without you?”

  His father’s secretary, Carole, overheard and rose from her desk to give him a hug, wide-eyed. “Paul, I don’t believe it. I’ve worked for your father for a long time. I can’t believe he’d do such a thing!”

  “You guys will muddle through.”

  The utter panic in the women’s eyes was oddly gratifying. He was leaving them in a bad situation. Hell, he was leaving Plainview and the Thrashers in a bad situation, but he had no choice. To stay here and work under his father’s thumb any longer would mean the end of him.

  “I won’t work for the team anymore, but if you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?”

  Tracy nodded and, after a moment of hesitation, threw herself at him for a hug.

  He thought he heard a choked sob from Carole. He patted Tracy’s back, feeling lower than a snake’s belly button. “It’ll be okay. You’re both great at your jobs. You’ll find a way to ride this out.”

  “Tracy! Carole! Get in here!” His father’s roar from within his office broke up the quiet moment.

  “Good luck,” he said.

  She nodded and pulled away.

  “You’re going to need it,” he muttered under his breath, but neither woman heard him, already running to Walter’s office to mollify him. “We’re all going to need it.”

  *

  Paul looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, as he tossed the keys on the kitchen table, but Willow had to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

  “I think it’s time for Jack and me to go home. I’ve been packing all morning.”

  “Packing? Willow, no matter how things are between us, I want a relationship with Jack. You know that.”

  “I do.” I just wish you wanted a relationship with me badly enough to make the choices that would allow it.

  She wouldn’t voice that thought. They’d been down that particular road too many times. It was a dead end. “Lots of couples share custody in different states. It works. He can split time between me and you, and when he starts school, maybe he can come up here for summers. You’d like that. You can show him the ropes at Dudley Field.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Willow didn’t understand his listless response, but it didn’t matter. She’d made up her mind and she’d follow through with it. “Look, I don’t know if we can work this out between us. I’ll hire a lawyer when I get back home.” Their dreams of an amicable settlement they could work out between themselves had evaporated in a puff of animosity. Screwball had promised her a substantial bonus for completion of the profile. She’d originally planned on using it for a security deposit on an apartment for her and Jack. Instead, she’d use it to hire a lawyer to help sort through the rubble that used to be her and Paul, and she and Jack would live in her parents’ basement for a while longer.

  Sometimes, life simply sucked.

  She bit back a sigh. “How was your dad?”

  His eyes flew to hers, flashing with resentment. “Want to dance on our grave a little bit, do you? I suppose you’re dying to get that follow-up piece published ASAP.”

  “Paul, that’s never what I wanted. I just wondered how—never mind.” She exhaled slowly. “You’re obviously determined to put the worst possible spin on everything.”

  “Wonder where I learned that trick from.”

  She shook her head. What did it matter anyway? “Forget it. I’ve booked our flight for later tonight. My cab is due in a couple of hours. You might want to spend some time with Jack, saying good-bye. He’s in his swing in the parlor.” She turned to go back to the bedroom. She had more packing to do, but a bitten-off curse from Paul stopped her.

  She turned to face him, confused by the look on his face.

  “I quit.”

  She frowned. “Quit what?”

  He shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping him. “I quit the Thrashers today. My father is completely in charge, which is how he wants it.”

  “Oh my God. Paul.” She made a vague gesture with her hands, feeling useless. A part of her wanted to dance and pump her fist and give him a high five for doing the right thing. But he wouldn’t welcome that from her. It would seem like celebrating the death of his dreams, no matter how misguided she’d thought those dreams were. “Why?” she said finally. “Why now?”

  “He was going to demote me until I was ready to take over management. He said I lacked the maturity to run the team at this point and his steady hand was needed.” The hard twist of Paul’s mouth left no doubt about how bitter he was about that statement.

  Willow closed her eyes for a long blink. “God, he’s so deluded.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me there.”

  “What are you going to do?” Now that it had actually come to pass, she couldn’t imagine Paul not in command of the Thrashers organization. Why hadn’t his father seen that? Hell, why hadn’t she seen it? She’d been so fixated on the injustices he endured there that she hadn’t stopped to think about what it would be like for him to actually leave.

  “Not sure yet. I’ve had plenty of offers over the years. Finding another job won’t be difficult, I don’t think, even with this mess.”

  “You’re good at what you do. You won’t have any trouble. I’m so sorry, Paul. For everything.”

  He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, his face impassive. “Try not to say ‘I told you so,’ okay?”

  “Paul, I wouldn’t.” Dammit, this was never what she’d wanted. Him wounded, her remorseful. Her editor gleeful at the warped story he’d peddled, and Walter Dudley back in sole charge of the Thrashers.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, although it assuredly did. “I’d better go say good-bye to Jack.” He paused. “My father is changing his will to cut both us and Jack out, by the way. I’m sorry. I wanted him to have the team someday.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me, Paul. That was your dream, not mine. I’m only sorry it won’t come true for you.”

  “Life isn’t fair sometimes. Unfortunately, Jack will have to find that out a little earlier than most.”

  Like Paul had, when his mother died and he’d been thrown onto the uncertain mercies
of a father who lived for his work.

  As Willow watched him walk away, she wanted to embrace him, pull his head down to her shoulder, comfort him and love him. She did love him, whether that made sense or not. But he wouldn’t welcome that from her. He was a proud man, and he’d been wrong. She’d been right. She was afraid he’d never be able to forgive her for that particular sin.

  *

  Paul settled into another hard, uncomfortable airport chair to wait for his flight to board. Where was he today? Some Southern hub. These airports all looked alike, with their modern furniture and their grayish geometric print carpets. Atlanta, maybe? He rooted in his pocket for his itinerary. Charlotte. That’s right, North Carolina.

  Paul had been interviewing all week, and he’d been on more planes in the last few days than in the past year. It was an awkward time to be interviewing. Most teams cleaned house in the off-season after a disappointing year and did their hiring shortly thereafter, hoping to rebuild.

  Still, even less than halfway through the season, the buzzards of unemployment circled over the executives of a few underperforming teams. He’d had several interviews with minor league teams, and even interest from the Kansas City Royals, in the big leagues. He was in no hurry. He wanted to be sure of what all his options were before he jumped into a new situation.

  He’d burned a hell of a lot of bridges getting out of his old situation. It needed to count for something. Only if he built a new, better life could all the pain he’d endured be worthwhile.

  He could have a new life. He told himself that approximately a hundred times a day. It would be a lonely one without Willow and Jack there every day, but it could still be good.

  It could be.

  His phone rang, and he checked the readout. “Hey, baby sister. What’s up?”

  “Not much. How’d the interview go? Where was it?” Sarah never needed to wait until one question was answered to launch into the next.

  “Fine. In Florida. I’m in Charlotte now, changing planes. I’ve got about twenty minutes until I have to board.”

  “Florida, huh? Did you see Willow?”

  She’d asked about Willow. Not Jack. He didn’t miss the implication. His sister wanted to play matchmaker. Surprising, given what Willow had done to their family. “No, Sarah. It’s a big state. Lots of people. I didn’t bump into them.”

  “Funny, wiseass. I thought maybe you went to visit them.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Any particular reason you didn’t go see her?”

  “The letter I got from Baker, Smith, and Chance, Attorneys at Law, last week didn’t exactly put me in a romantic mood.” Understatement. He’d prowled around the house like a wounded bear, glad for once he lived alone and could be as grouchy as he wanted.

  “Lawyers? What’s that all about?”

  “The custody settlement.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” His bleak tone mirrored hers. Nothing said romance like a lawyered-up custody fight. The letter had been a surprise. He’d still thought they could work it out without lawyers getting involved. After all, they weren’t the bitterest break-up he’d ever heard about, and if that was faint praise, well, at least it was something.

  Willow had obviously had another view of the matter, though.

  “Have you tried talking to her?”

  “Of course I talked to her.” What did his sister think, he was a total idiot?

  “You know what I mean, Paul. Did you tell her how you feel?”

  “Oh, here it comes. The part where you lecture me about how male and out of touch with my feelings I am. How do you know how I feel, anyway?”

  “I know you wouldn’t have quit the Thrashers if you weren’t in love with her.”

  “Bullshit.” Heads turned all over the gate area. He’d raised his voice. “Sorry,” he said to a scowling old woman across from him.

  She gave him a reproving look and went back to her e-reader.

  “You know why I quit the Thrashers, and it had nothing to do with her. It has to do with the fact that our dad is a raging asshole.”

  The old lady downright scowled at him this time, but he just shrugged.

  “Yeah, I hate to give you the news, but Dad has been a raging asshole for years, yet you tolerated him,” Sarah pointed out. “You only quit when you saw him through Willow’s eyes, and that kind of thing only happens when you’re in love with someone. Only love can make you take a fresh look at something you’ve known your whole life, Paul.”

  “Oh, whatever.” The scoff came easily, but a niggling seed of doubt sprouted deep in his chest anyway. “Besides, I can’t believe you’re defending her. You didn’t like having our family secrets spilled in the media for everyone to read either. She exposed us to a hell of a lot of public humiliation.”

  “I admit I wasn’t happy when I first read the article. But everything she said was true. Besides, she said the editor rewrote some of it and made it harsher than what she’d written, and I believe that.”

  “How do you know that? Did you talk to her?”

  “Yeah, Paul. It’s funny, when you want to know what’s going on with someone, it’s sometimes a good idea to call them up, calmly ask them a question, and then listen to what they say in response, without deciding ahead of time that they’re a liar or can’t be trusted. You should try it sometime.”

  “Now who’s the wiseass?”

  “I think you ought to be a little more fair.”

  “You think I’m unreasonable? That’s crap, Sarah. I’ve been in charge of this team and this family for years. It would have gone off the rails a long time ago if it wasn’t for me.” God. He leaned forward in his seat and tugged his White Sox cap down. He didn’t feel right wearing Thrashers gear anymore.

  “I know, hon, and I love you for it. Believe me, I’m the only one who knows the kind of crap our father has put you through. Put us both through. You’re so guarded, and it’s always worse when you distrust someone. You have to admit, you’ve made circling the wagons into an art form, but that’s not always the best idea—especially in a relationship. Willow made a mistake. Maybe it’s time to forgive and try to trust her, Paul. She’s the mother of your child.”

  “I have good reason for distrusting Willow. She wasn’t honest with me about Jack. She tried to find me when she found out she was pregnant, but she kept it from me for weeks after she came to Plainview. I don’t know if I can forgive that.” His voice broke, and he realized he’d come to the crux of the problem.

  “I think you ought to try. She was scared, alone and broke, and had a newborn. You have to admit, it’s not a great situation. You have to forgive her for maybe not making the best decision.”

  “Especially with what happened at her last job.” The words came out grudgingly, but dammit, they were true.

  “What?”

  He quickly told her about Willow’s fears of dating in the workplace after her last relationship and job had both ended in disaster.

  “Sounds like a pretty good reason for being gun-shy, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.”

  Could he trust Willow? Did he trust her? What his sister said about Willow’s editor rewriting the piece was plausible. If he hadn’t been so determined to keep his guard up, to keep Willow from hurting him or misleading him again, she might have had a chance to explain. But he’d kept his walls high and his anger higher, preventing that from happening.

  “What happened with Dad—I’ve defended him so many times. It hurts so much that she was right and I was wrong about him.” He stared at his sneaker, startled at the roughness of his voice.

  “I know, hon. I know exactly how disappointed you are in Dad. I am too. He won’t be giving me away at my wedding.” Tears clouded her voice, and he wished suddenly his father was in front of him so he could reach out and throttle him for all the unnecessary pain he’d caused. “I don’t know any girl besides me who has a living father who can say that. No matter how your parents let you dow
n, you never stop hoping they’ll come around, surprise you and turn out to be a little better than you thought. Sometimes, that doesn’t happen. I had to come to terms with that when I quit the Thrashers and got engaged to Tom. Now it’s your turn.”

  “I have come to terms with it. I quit, didn’t I?”

  “Can you forgive Willow for being right about him? For outing something you would have kept hidden, even though it needed to come out? That’s what you have to decide, Paul.”

  “I know. I know.” The airline agent called the first rows to the gate, and he straightened, a heavy weight in his gut. “Look, I’ve gotta go. My flight is boarding.” Yeah, it was first call, but so what? This conversation was so depressing, he’d rather sit on an airplane than continue it, which was saying something.

  “Promise me you’ll give her a chance, Paul.”

  “I promise I’ll think it over. Gotta go.” He hung up before she could point out he hadn’t exactly promised what she’d asked him to.

  *

  “Are you sure that’s where you want to put your bed? It’s against the wall. It’ll be cold.”

  Willow took a deep breath before responding. It was bad enough to live in your parents’ basement. It was even worse when one of those parents couldn’t quit giving unwanted advice. She’d decided to move some furniture around, rearrange things a bit. Pretend this wasn’t the same basement apartment she’d moved out of months ago. So far, the self-deception wasn’t working. “Mom, it’s Florida. It’s not going to be that cold.”

  “But it’s so uncomfortable and damp.”

  “Mom, that’s where the bed is going.” She pushed back a straggly wisp of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and wiped her grimy hands on her shorts. In the corner, Jack cooed happily in his bouncy seat.

  “I’m so glad to have you back,” her mother said with a smile. “I missed Jack so. Oh, and you too, of course.”

  Willow tried to summon a polite smile. “Thanks.”

  “Even though I don’t understand completely what you’re doing back here. You ran into the father of your child, for God’s sake. Why aren’t you with him?” Her mother crossed her arms, bracelets clinking aggressively. Willow’s mom never left the privacy of her bedroom unless fully armored with all her jewelry. Even now, at fifty-five, she put as much attention into her appearance as she had when she was thirty. Every trace of gray had been carefully removed from her coiffed red hair, and artful makeup smoothed away the remarkably few wrinkles she had.