Binding Arbitration (35 page)

Tricia winked at Aidan before she spoke to Fletch, “Write him a check for the bed, too.”

“For crying out loud,” Aidan said. “You didn’t have any of your own places to procreate in?”

The tips of Tricia’s ears reddened and she bit her lip. “We came up here to make sure everything was in order after that break in. A bad thunderstorm blew in, and we decided to wait until it passed.”

She was tapping the toe at an accelerated pace. “It is not my fault, but I happened to ovulate when I was here.”

“You’re telling me you conceived your kid here?”

“She let me have her wherever I found a pair.” Fletch contributed happily.

“For the love of God,” Aidan said.

“You’re all crazy, and I am going to bed,” I huffed.

Aidan was pointing to the door. “Out.”

“She came for the panties.” Fletch indicated his wife. “I came for business.”

Tricia followed me up. “Libby, I have a few items up there that I’d better locate, while they talk business.”

Aidan and Fletch were speaking in muttered tones as Fletch pulled his lap-top out of his briefcase. Aidan’s eyes looked concerned as he rested the bat on his shoulder, but he suddenly looked up, right at me and nodded me on. I felt as if he had somehow installed a GPS tracking device on me.

“How is Cass handling everything?” Tricia asked concerned.

“This must be overwhelming for him.”

“He seems to be taking it in stride.” I smiled as she switched on the light. It was paneled in the same knotty pine. The furniture was heavy and rustic. Most of it was rough hewn logs wrapped together with strands of rawhide. Even the pulls on the drawers were acorns, which coordinated with the plaid comforter and the leaf-patterned drapes in rich fall colors.

Tricia went to the night-stand and retrieved a thong.

“You can’t imagine how happy we are that Aidan got rid of Vanessa. She was a continuous pain in the butt. I think she’s the reason Fletchie got acid reflux.”

“She does have a way about her,” I said.

“She wore the most ridiculous dress to my wedding. Aidan was a groomsman and she maneuvered her way into the photos. She was in more pictures than my maid of honor. Anyway, I had her airbrushed out of every single one of them, even the ones that were PG.” She fished around under the bed coming up with a black and white plaid pair of boy shorts that had red lace trim and bows, she folded them up like a love letter.

“How long have you and Fletch been married?” I sat on the bed and watched her crawl into the walk in closet.

“Seven months, one week, and three days. I was cold calling on businesses in his office building when I met him. I work for executives, I plan corporate events, arrange diner parties, act as a stylist, and coach etiquette.”

“What’d Fletch need?” I asked, curious about how the suave Fletch went about obtaining a wife.

“He was under the mistaken impression that I was a high-priced call girl, and he needed a weekend date in Vegas. He was after some NFL player who wasn’t happy with his representation.”

“You went with him?”

“You have no idea how much I charge an hour. I maxed out one of his credit cards, and I never let him step foot in my personal space. I despised his arrogant ass from the moment he gave me a shit-eating grin. I made his life miserable for three days, and I’m good with little details.”

“So what made you change your mind about him?”

“Simple. He never lost his cool, he never raised his voice, he never put a finger on me, and by the end of those three days he was wound so tight that if a pin dropped in his vicinity he was liable to implode. He never retaliated. He was stalking me so closely, he could probably tell you the number of times I blinked and I had no idea.”

“He’s never struck me as the patient type.”

“He wouldn’t have the clients he has, if he didn’t know when to lay in wait, and when to pounce.” She looked at the panties in her lap. “I think I found them all. I didn’t know your name was Libby until the hospital, so I didn’t pick up on it.”

“Pick up on what?”

“Aidan won’t remember, but in February we had a big blowout party before the baseball players take off for spring training. It was a great time, with the exception of Vanessa. All night, she kept going on about the parties in New York. Aidan had a bit much to drink, and by that time she’d alienated everyone else, so when she started in on him, he told her in no uncertain terms that she should high-tail it back home, if she thought New York was so much better than Chicago. Their argument dispersed the rest of our party. She stormed off without a coat. I couldn’t stand her, but no coat with the dress she was wearing would have caused third degree anal frostbite. Fletch went after her and took her to a hotel, and I put Aidan in one of the guest rooms.

“He was so agitated that I was barely able to remove his shoes. He was mumbling to himself, and I thought he’d passed out when I was getting him situated. I was talking to myself and said, ‘How could you fall in love with someone so shallow?’ He sat up in a moment of clarity and said, ‘Libby is the least shallow person I know.’ I asked who ‘Libby’ was, and he leaned deeper into his pillows, and whispered in relief, ‘Libby’s my wife.’

“The next morning while we were talking over breakfast I told them I thought that I would hire ‘Libby.’ His gaze shot directly at me; his eyes were panicked and all the color was gone from his face. He wanted to know Libby who. I made up some last name, but he gathered up his stuff and left in a hurry. I thought you should know, for whatever it means.”

From down stairs, I heard female voices coming from the kitchen: “missionary, doggie, me on top, doggie, missionary, standing, doggie, missionary, on a chair, doggie, in the locker room”. When I rounded the stairs, Aidan and Fletch were engrossed with the computer. Fletch was pointing at the screen, and when a voice would go off, Aidan would shake his head yes or no. The no’s were about four to one. When Tricia and I were about three feet away, they both looked up.

“Business? I thought we had enough sex-capades for one night,” Tricia said in a teasing tone.

Fletch tried to close the screen, but I froze him with an icy lawyer stare. Tricia and I took up their spots. I read the web pages banner: Band-Aids Bimbo Bench. The head-line read:
Each of these women insist that Band-Aid is a heterosexual. Read their bios to find out just what baseball’s golden boy likes in bed.

The web page had glossy professional photos of women. When you picked one of them they would giggle and then say a position before going into explicit detail of what kind of sex they had allegedly engaged in with Aidan. I picked ‘Candy’ from the other night. She said ‘doggie’, giggled and then said ‘missionary’ before going into a very detailed description that I listened to for only about ten seconds, before looking at Aidan.

“The vast majority of them I never even laid eyes on.”

“Laid is the operative word,” Tricia said turning away.

I couldn’t speak. I scanned over the photos, which became a blonde blur until I came to the end. There was a photo of Vanessa, though not a glossy, but a video image.

“That’s new.” Fletch pointed. “It wasn’t on there earlier, when I found out about it.”

“It seems that the star appears last.” I clicked on her.

It was a tight, grainy shot of Vanessa. She was dressed conservatively in jeans and a Versace T-shirt, with one of her bare feet propped on the edge of her seat, clutching a tissue.

“It was wrong to pretend we were engaged, but after I found him with his lover he was so remorseful. I was devastated, but at least I knew why he wasn’t interested in me sexually. He was so apoplectic and I loved him so much that I thought I could help him by pretending that we were a couple. It was his idea to get engaged so that he could keep other women away.” The fake tears lasted about five seconds. “Any woman, who says she slept with him, is either a liar or has more assets than me. Just watch my video or go to Vanessa.com if you want to see all that I have to offer a man.” She did a blow kiss, patted her knee and her dog jumped on her lap and she faded out.

Aidan growled. “What are you going to do to get this down?”

“I’ve already made some calls. That Athletes Gone Bad guy out of Philly is behind this.”

“Get him on the phone, and get this pulled. Tell him I’m going to sue him and take him for every penny of porn he’s got.”

“He’s a little difficult to reach. He’s incarcerated.”

“Find someone to whack him.”

Fletch pointed his finger at me. “You did not hear my client ask me to obtain a hit for him.”

“I’m too tired to care. Cass gets up early in the morning. I’m going to bed. Figure it out on your own.”

“Libby.” Aidan whispered in a pleading voice. “This does not have anything to do with you and me.”

“You’re right. There isn’t any you and me.” I started for the stairs, and he followed.

“I’ll take care of it.” Aidan said.

I waved him off and Tricia and Fletch goodbye at the same time. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow I was going to be as far away from Band-Aid Palowski as medically feasible.

* * *

A screen door slamming startled me awake. I tiptoed into Aidan’s room. He wasn’t in his bed. I imagined he was fishing or maybe netting more women, but I didn’t care if it allowed me to find the keys to Tank. I wanted to take Cass home and barricade us in our house. I tore the room apart. No keys.

Cass was still asleep, as I slipped downstairs and out onto the back porch. Tank was there, but Aidan wasn’t. I thought to go back to my couch in the upstairs den and sleep a little longer, but I decided to make coffee before I dressed, and was grinding the beans, when I felt something silky brush against the back of my thighs. Then, a large arm wrapped around my middle and he dangled a set of keys in my face.

“Were you in my room looking for these?” He rested his head on my shoulder, before he kissed my neck right below my ear.

I turned around; he was standing behind me in nothing except a pair of work-out shorts, which hung low on his hips. I took in the view leisurely as he rubbed his taut abdomen, then he gave me the Palowski grin. “You can’t get away from me that easily.” He put the keys in the inside pocket of the shorts. “Why don’t we go upstairs and mess around for awhile.”

“Oh, get serious.” I turned away.

“You could give me a bath.”

“Or I could drown you.”

He forced me to face him. “If you did that, you’d remain unfulfilled.” Feather light kisses silenced my angry retort. I jumped when the front screen banged.

“I told you they’d have coffee and…”

Aidan blocked the voices and me from whoever it was. I was thankful, as I didn’t want to greet anyone in boy shorts and a tank top. “What are you doing up here at six in the morning?”

I put my hands on Aidan’s shoulders and peered over them to see Tony carrying an eye-rubbing Manny. Evita pulled up short when she caught a glimpse of Aidan. She took more than one perusal, and I couldn’t blame her. “We should have phoned.” She elbowed Tony in the side. “We’re lucky they’re even awake.”

“You mean we’re lucky we didn’t walk in later?”

Evita gave Tony a glare and smiled impishly at us.

“We drove up as soon as the club closed. I tried your cell. I caught Avery at your house and he told me you had Elizabeth up here.” He tilted his head to one side. “Good morning,
Bella
.” Tony had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging in a loose knot around his open collar. “Is there a place where Manny can go back to sleep? We woke him in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, you can put him upstairs with Cass.” Aidan moved, but I held him stationary. He looked back at me. “Besides the fact that you drive me crazy without them, here’s another reason you need to wear clothes.” He bowed, indicating that Tony should precede him up the stairs.

I maneuvered behind them, sulking off into Aidan’s bedroom for something to wear. When I got back to the kitchen, Evita was at the stove preparing breakfast. Aidan was setting the table, and Tony was staring anxiously into a cup of coffee.

“What can I do to help?” I asked as Evita shoveled bacon out of a frying pan.

“Eggs. I thought scrambled would be easiest.”

I reached for the carton. “Is this a social call?”

“I found something; when I showed it to Tony and he thought we should get to you right away.”

I poured the eggs into a skillet. “What was it?”

“Before I left Espinoza’s house, the man that helped me escape gave me a piece of paper with a number he said I could call if I ever ran into trouble. By the time I called it, it had been disconnected. I forgot about it, but when I was writing everything down, I remembered and found the envelope. Another piece of paper was in it.” We gathered the platters and went to the table, where Aidan was pouring juice and more coffee.

“Where’s the envelope now?” I asked.

Tony took up the conversation. “I have it in my safe.”

“What was on the paper?”

Tony glanced at Evita, as she put eggs on his plate. “For future reference, I prefer mine over easy,” he grumbled.

“How does that information pertain to me?” she retorted.

Tony shook his head at Aidan. “The women I’ve been meeting lately have been taking me for granted.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Aidan offered back.

“We all know you’re no choir boy.” I raised an eyebrow. “Tony, get on with it. What was on the paper?”

“An invoice, uniform crate sizes, listed as cases of canned chili peppers. The thing that caught my attention was that they were Peruvian peppers. The ship-to address was some company out of Miami. I did a little digging last night, and you’re never going to believe this.”

“What?” Aidan and I said in unison.

Tony bunched up his eyebrows, looking between us. “The crates were being shipped to a company owned by Dick Doyle.”

Aidan’s hand stopped with a fork full of eggs almost to his mouth. “Dick Doyle?”

I knew that name. Dick Doyle, Dick Doyle.

Aidan continued, “Senator Dick Doyle out of Florida?”

“Holy shit,” I said.