Mr. Right Goes Wrong

by Pamela Morsi

He got Jonah to his feet and, with his good arm around his shoulder, walked him to the makeshift bedroom.

  “I can’t say anything to Mazy. That’s something Tru has to do himself,” Eli said. “Of course, I probably couldn’t tell her, anyway, since she’s not exactly talking to me right now.”

  He sighed heavily at that thought. “She needs to hear it from Tru. And once Mazy knows what’s going on, she’ll straighten out Driscoll once and for all.”

  He lowered Jonah to a sitting position on the side of the bed.

  “At least I hope she’d be as mad about it as I am. I could be wrong about that.” He hesitated a moment, considering it. “She always wanted Driscoll to acknowledge Tru,” he said. “And she’d thought that by having his child, Tad would take her, as well. Maybe she still wants that. She says no. But on some level...”

  Eli retrieved his father’s pajamas as he considered that thought. “She does, after all, continue to work for the guy. Everybody says he’s the worst boss in town. And she’s told me herself that he’s treated her like a jerk. But she won’t even consider looking for anything else. That should tell me something, right? She says she deserves better. She tells me that she’s changed. But can I trust that? Can I believe that she’s not tempted when she’s thrown into his path every day of the week?”

  Eli growled like an old bear before he began undoing the buttons on his father’s shirt.

  “Driscoll won’t marry her,” Eli said. “I’d bet my life on that. Why else would he be talking custody and visitation? No, he’s going to want to do what he’s always done. Get the best of Mazy and leave her with a big heartbreak. And she’ll let him.”

  Eli knelt at his father’s feet and began removing his shoes.

  “No, I’ve got to have more faith in her than that,” Eli said. “Believing that I knew what she was like and how she would react has not paid off big for me. Maybe I was simply doomed to unrequited love. Maybe it could never be anything on her side more than good laughs and great sex.” Eli sighed. “It’s a shame that I was too greedy to settle for that.”

  He wrapped his arms around Jonah’s waist, raising him to his feet so he could finish dressing him for bed.

  “But you know, Dad, if she kicked me to the curb for being a jerk, then she can do the same to Driscoll. I have to trust her to do that.”

  He eased his father back onto the bed, lifting his legs to lay them against the sheet.

  “But none of that logic makes me one bit less mad,” he admitted. “When I think of Tru ‘taking his place in the community as a Driscoll,’ I want to choke somebody. Jeez! Truman Gulliver would come barreling out of his grave in retribution.”

  Eli pulled the covers up on his father and knelt at the bedside, but there was nothing prayerful about his thoughts.

  “Back in high school when everybody found out that Mazy was pregnant and Driscoll and his buddies were spreading all those lies about her, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. Do you remember that? You told me that the two of them needed the chance to work it out on their own. You were right, but I still wanted a fight. He was probably twice my size, but I didn’t care. I needed a pound of flesh, even if it was my own.” Eli looked over at his dad’s face. Jonah’s eyes were watching him intently. “I feel exactly the same way now. I know that letting Mazy handle it is the right thing to do. It’s the civilized thing to do. It’s what she would want me to do. But I’d still like to the wipe the floor with that son of a bitch.”

  Eli rubbed his eyes with his hands as if he could rub out the images in his own mind. When he felt his father clasp his wrist, he didn’t resist. His father was undoubtedly tired. Eli had been talking forever. The old man needed his rest. And this was, Eli assumed, his father’s usual gesture of love. Jonah would take Eli’s hand and carry it to his own heart.

  His father surprised him. Instead of bringing Eli’s hand to his heart, he set it palm up on his chest. Jonah put his own hand on top and then slowly drew it into a tight fist.

  Eli looked from the fist to his father’s eyes, shining with cold, stark anger.

  Slowly Eli smiled. “Absolutely,” he said. “At least one punch will be for you.”

  45

  Mazy found it a few minutes after four. Or rather she didn’t find it. She finally realized that amid the giant stack of papers, the original agreement, the payment record, the insurance coverage and cancellation, the past-due notices, the death certificate, the adjuster’s declaration of total loss, one important slip of paper was not there.

  At first, she couldn’t quite believe it.

  She went through everything, page by page, making sure it wasn’t stuck to another sheet or tucked behind something else. Then she went through the scenarios where perhaps it could have been lost. Mazy read through page after page after page, but there was no evidence of its existence at any time, ever.

  Lyda McKirk stopped at her doorway. “Hey, you know your shift ended a half hour ago, right?”

  Mazy smiled. “I’m almost done.”

  Finally she picked up the phone and called Nina. They talked for several minutes. Mazy mostly asked questions and took notes on the answers.

  “All right, Mrs. Garvey. Thank you for this information,” she said in her most professional tone. “I believe that’s all I need right now. May I call you later on this evening? Will you be at home?”

  Nina was a bit disconcerted by the tone, but agreed that Mazy could phone her later.

  She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Slowly a smile came across her face. “Do I have the best job in the world?” she said aloud. And then she laughed at her own skewed view of the career that she had once described to herself as the worst, most depressing job in banking.

  Some people might say that the hard part was still ahead of her, but in fact, she thought she might actually relish this task.

  Mazy got up from her desk and walked out of her tiny, closed-off little room and across the brightly polished floor of the lobby.

  Tad was coming out of his office. He was wearing his coat and carrying his briefcase.

  Mazy pointed to the door that he had just walked through.

  “I’ll see you in your office for a moment, Mr. Driscoll.”

  He looked wary. “I was on my way out. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No. It cannot.”

  She led him back into his own lair. He angrily set his briefcase on the desk and tossed his coat in the chair. He turned to glare at her.

  Mazy was not intimidated. She looked at him as the worm that she had already known him to be.

  His face fell and he cursed vividly. “You found out, didn’t you,” he said.

  “You knew that I would,” Mazy answered calmly. “You only hoped it would be too late for me to do anything about it.”

  Tad shook his head. “I worried that I couldn’t trust the kid, but I hoped that I was wrong.”

  Mazy thought it was very strange that Tad would call Nina Garvey a kid. She was younger than they were, but she was a grown woman with a child.

  Tad had begun to pace the room. His expression was grim as he strode back and forth “I don’t know what you think you can do about it,” he told her. “You seem to forget that I have the upper hand here.”

  “You mean, by being my boss?” she asked incredulously.

  “Oh, that.” He waved off the question. “I’ll tell the judge I didn’t know about your past when I hired you. It’s your word against mine and you are the convicted thief and liar.”

  “The judge? You’re thinking of taking this in front of a judge?”

  “You’re damn right, I am,” he answered.

  “What do you think that will get you?” she asked. “The rules are very straightforward about this kind of thing.”

  “The rules? You think there are rule
s in child custody? It’s strictly dog-eat-dog.”

  “Child custody?”

  The bottom went out of Mazy’s stomach. She tried to keep the shock from showing on her face.

  “I’ve already talked to Bo,” he said snidely. “You remember Bo Spalding? He’s now a county judge and he says that I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a convicted felon,” Tad pointed out. “I’m a pillar of the community. And you have no idea how a good lawyer can twist your whole life into something awful. You’re halfway there already. I’d say you’ll be lucky if you don’t get a ride out of town on a rail.”

  Mazy concentrated on controlling her breathing. Fight-or-flight hormones were flooding through her nervous system, but she knew she had to resist the urge to panic.

  “The kid likes me,” he said, like a bragger’s boast. “After you probably spent the past fifteen years poisoning his mind against me, I was able to turn him in one short conversation.”

  Tad had been talking to Tru. A wave of nausea was added to the almost overpowering fear that was dogging her.

  “He’s too soft, of course,” Tad complained. “Pussy-raised boys always are. But I can get that out of him. Once he spends some time around some real guys. Guys who are not being nice to him because they’re screwing his mother. Ones who recognize and have respect for a winner when they see one. He’s got that blood in him. A natural superiority to the run-of-the-mill losers around here. He’s a Driscoll. Tru Driscoll. Did he tell you that? We’re having his name changed.”

  For one terrible, horrified moment, Mazy visualized her smart, funny, interesting son becoming the snarling, vindictive, egotist in front of her. Then, as quickly as the image came, it went.

  Her son, Tru Gulliver, would never be this man. It was too early to say what he would make of his life, or what effects circumstance or tragedy might throw his way, but his character was already formed. He could improve on it or he could struggle against it, but it was already there, the foundation that everything else was built upon.

  Tru’s life with Mazy had been chaotic and riddled with his mother’s mistakes, but she had loved him unconditionally. And she’d instilled in him the same sense of kindness, justice and fairness that Beth Ann and Truman Gulliver had taught her.

  Poor Tad Driscoll could never know that or understand it.

  Mazy raised her chin and kept her voice steady. “So this is why you’ve suddenly decided to be nice to me, to get to Tru.”

  “I thought it might be easier than an all-out war,” Tad answered. “Although I have to admit pushing your face in the dirt has always been more fun than kissing up.”

  Mazy didn’t doubt that at all.

  “I was willing to pork you again, too, if it came to that.” Tad gave a nasty chuckle. “I guess you’d have to do the humping while I held my nose.”

  Mazy ignored the crudeness of his words.

  “Did you think I was interested in you?” he asked. “I wasn’t even interested in you back in the day. You were easy and convenient. You were worthless trash back then. Now I guess you’ve upgraded to used garbage.”

  He apparently found his quip amusing, but his obvious anger somehow gave Mazy a better toehold on her own control.

  Rephrase: Tad Driscoll has zero respect for you and never will.

  Repurpose: If he wants to have a relationship with Tru, he’ll have to swallow that disdain every day for the rest of his life. Otherwise, Tru will toss him out on his ear.

  “What the hell are you smiling about?” Tad suddenly demanded.

  Mazy hadn’t realized that her feelings were showing in her face.

  “Tad, honestly, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” she said softly. “I’ve always wanted you to have a relationship with Tru. Remember, I’m the one who begged and pleaded for you to see him.” She gave what she hoped sounded like a contented sigh. “It’s wonderful, really,” she said. “After all this time and all the lies you spread about me, I’ll be vindicated. I mean, anybody with eyes could see that you’re his father, but changing his name to Driscoll. Finally, everyone in town will know―Mazy was right and Tad was lying.”

  The look on the man’s face was priceless. Mazy could have laughed out loud, but she didn’t.

  “And, of course, there are all the practical aspects of Tru acquiring another parent with another income,” she said. “I’ve been stuck living at my mother’s house so that he doesn’t have to move to another high school. From what you’ve said before, I know you’re not keen on paying back child support, but even support going forward will be a big help toward moving to our own place. Though, if you’re not thinking joint custody but full custody, then I’m free as a bird. With all my financial troubles, no judge will expect me to contribute to your bottom line. And I’ve been so worried about how I’ll afford to send him to college. Tru’s a good student. I’m sure he’ll be able to get into an excellent university. Unfortunately, he’s not quite good enough to get a ton of scholarships. So I guess you’ll have to cough up those expenses. That or take out loans for whatever money he needs.”

  Driscoll’s expression would have sat well on a cartoon character just hit on the head with an anvil.

  “Really, Tad,” she added. “There is no need for all this drama and clandestine scheming. I’m delighted with how things are working out. Welcome to the family.”

  Mazy walked toward the door and then turned back. “By the way, I discovered that Nina Garvey was never a cosigner on that loan for her husband’s car. Not when the note was issued or afterward, when it got into trouble. She wasn’t even listed on the insurance when he had it. So she’s not liable for a dead man’s debt. We’ll be writing off the total amount to her deceased husband. And I sincerely hope that she won’t be filing a complaint with the comptroller’s office about our bank illegally harassing her for six months.”

  She stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her.

  46

  Eli arrived at Driscoll’s home before he did. He parked his truck at the curb and got out to walk around. There was a big moon, nearly full, that lit up the landscape. The air had turned very cold in the clear night. If he had any sense, Eli thought unkindly, he’d get back in the truck and turn on the heater. But he didn’t want to be comfortable. The edginess was empowering and he wasn’t willing to give it up.

  He looked around Driscoll’s place critically. The house had been in the family since pre–Civil War days. A structure that old required plenty of maintenance. Old Mrs. Driscoll had always kept the place up. She had used it for rounds and rounds of social occasions and the annual, grandiose Founder’s Ball. Those lavish events had not survived her demise and the house had quickly ceased to be a showplace. But even Tad’s ex-wife, Genna, had been willing to call a handyman or a gardener. Tad had allowed the place to fall into genuine neglect since she’d left him. The paint was peeling so badly, Eli could notice it in the dark. And the wide, elegant porch now listed slightly to one side. There were only dead weeds in the flower beds and they were at least three feet tall.

  Eli wondered if Driscoll didn’t notice how it looked. Or had he become so accustomed to having other people take care of things, it never occurred to him that no one else would.

  As Eli leaned against the front fender, his hands in his pockets, he tried not to think about Mazy. That was impossible, he decided. It was like telling himself not to breathe. No, he corrected himself, it was worse than that. He could hold his breath. But he couldn’t make his heart stop or his brain quit firing. Mazy was that elemental to him.

  He thought about how Driscoll was manipulating her. Using psychological tricks to control another person was despicable.

  Of course, Eli reminded himself, Driscoll was a despicable kind of guy. No one should expect anything else. Eli was not tha
t kind of person, yet he’d used the same kind of emotionally underhanded deceit to get Mazy for himself. Even worse—unlike Driscoll, Eli actually loved Mazy. To do that to somebody that you love had to be the definition of vile. He was disgusted with his behavior. Even more so because, in all honesty, he’d kind of enjoyed it. Having the upper hand with Mazy had been a new experience. It had been fun. It had allowed him to strut around in smug arrogance at her expense. And there was, he was ashamed to admit, a bit of a revenge element to it, as well.

  For the first time in weeks of sadness and desperation, Eli was glad that his plan hadn’t worked. He was grateful that ultimately she walked out on his deplorable conduct. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way. It was progress that she’d refused to accept it. And it gave him hope that in the future, she’d be strong enough to turn her back on other worthless, no-account men, as well.

  Down the street a pair of headlights were coming in his direction. The car slowed as it passed Eli’s truck. Then the late-model Mercedes pulled into the driveway next to the house.

  Eli pushed away from the truck and slowly, casually, walked toward the vehicle. The light in the car came on as it opened. Driscoll stepped out looking dapper and businesslike in a well-tailored overcoat.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Looking for you.”

  Driscoll held his arms out. “I guess you found me.”

  “I’ve been talking to Tru Gulliver,” Eli said. “And I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  “You don’t, huh?” Driscoll said. “Seems to me like it’s none of your business.”

  “It is if I say it is.”

  Driscoll shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t work that way. The kid is my flesh and blood. You’re just his mom’s boyfriend. Oh, wait, didn’t Mazy already dump you? I guess that means you’re just...nothing.”

  “I’m Tru’s friend,” Eli told him. “And I have his best interests at heart. You don’t qualify on either of those counts.”

  “You don’t know anything about it,” Driscoll said.