Free Mortal Bonds by Michael Sears Page B

Maybe she’s having some second thoughts. Nothing serious. She’ll come take the Kid for a few playdates, spoil him rotten, upset his routine, and fly back to Lafayette, where she gets to be the big-city celebrity in a small town. End of story.”
    “Credulity does not become you. You are a professional cynic; why are you so gullible where she’s concerned?”
    I thought that was a one-sided view of the situation. But I couldn’t immediately come up with any other.
    “Come on, Skeli. We can deal with this.”
    “Don’t call me that.” We had officially gone from a discussion to a dispute, and I was not keeping up. “She
will
upset the Kid’s schedule, and you just shrug it off?”
    “I will keep it to a minimum.”
    “Jason. It’s you she’s after. She doesn’t care about the Kid. At best, he’s a means to an end—you. And much more likely, he’s an annoyance that she will fob off on her mother again first chance she gets.”
    “No más. No más,”
I said, hands in the air.
    “And what am I supposed to be doing when she’s around? Are you telling me that my next role is going to be running competition with Miss Tits on a Stick? The Cajun Queen from Narcissus, Louisiana! Like hell, I will. Christ!” She threw up her hands in recognition of the one subject we had been content to avoid. “I won’t even be here!”
    “Please, you’re making way too much of this. Her being here changes nothing with you and me.”
    She finally stopped fuming, and her eyes went soft. “That’s nice. You’re a nice man. But, godalmighty, you can be such a dope.” I thought she was going to tear up. She didn’t tear up easily. Or willingly. “Excuse me.” She stood up. “I’ve got to find the ladies’ room.”
    I was alone with a cold duck and a great view.
    “She’s taking it well, don’t you think?” I said to the duck. Cold and dead like me, the duck didn’t say anything.
    I sat there thinking how I could have handled the conversation better. I could not imagine how I might have handled it worse. I blamed myself and Skeli and Angie. It felt comfortable blaming Angie. And myself. But Skeli was the one who had taken the beating.
    Was she right? That was what had me scared about Angie’s visit. I had no wish to become entrapped in the briar patch of our old lives. I had moved on. Happily. I didn’t think I was weak enough to fall for her all over again. I knew myself—and her—too well for that. But I didn’t want to be tested. If Angie wanted to play visiting mother for a few weeks, I was willing to allow it. With my personal supervision, whether she liked it or not, though that would put us in close proximity more often than I would have liked. Or than Skeli would like. But why would she want me back? She had my money and she had her freedom. The best of both worlds. So, why was Skeli so sure? Was she just feeling threatened herself? I had had at least one too many Bellinis to deal with all those questions.
    The busboy reappeared. “Is everything all right?”
    Nothing was right. “Yes, thanks.”
    “Would you like coffee? Or would you care to see the dessert menu?”
    “Not right now,” I said. “I’ll wait for my date to get back.”
    He gave me a very uncomfortable look. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think she’s coming back.”
    “What?”
    “I just saw her get into a Town Car a few minutes ago. She’s gone.”
    •   •   •
    SUNDAY EVENING, Pop appeared at my front door with the Kid fast asleep in his arms. I held the door open, and he went directly to the Kid’s room and laid him on his bed. I held the door and stayed out of his way.
    The Kid gave a grunt and a short, snorting snore and rolled over, dead to the world.
    “Nice work, Pop. Did you drug him?”
    “He’s had a big day,” he said, peeling off the boy’s new shoes. White with Velcro straps and red and blue flashing lights in the heels.
    “Cool,” I said, shaking my head in wonder. I would never have predicted