Shooting the Moon (7 page)

“How dare you judge me like that!” she said.

Finally he stood and she could tell by the hard planes of his face and the flash in his green eyes that he was angry, far angrier than she’d first thought. “Are you joking? You and your family have made a national pastime out of judging me. You don’t really know me—don’t
want
to know me—yet I always come up short. According to the perfect Lauren Worthington I’m not good enough to be Brandon’s father and play a part in his life. Well, who the hell gave
you
the right to make that call?”

He was pointing a finger at her, nearly jabbing it into her breastbone, but Lauren didn’t back away. Brandon was Audra’s son, too. And since Audra was gone, she was responsible for him. That meant she had to make some tough choices, and what she did about Harley was one of them.

If only what had once been clear-cut wasn’t becoming so hopelessly muddled.

“We love Brandon, Harley. My parents and I are just doing our best to take care of him.”

“And you’re looking out for yourselves along the way. Well, enjoy it while you can because whether you believe it or not, I love Brandon, too. And I’m going to take him away from you if it’s the last thing I do.”

The resolution in Harley’s voice terrified Lauren. She hated contention. She didn’t want to fight, didn’t want this to ruin everyone’s lives. “If you really love him that’s the one thing you
won’t
do.”

He stared down at her, tall, dark, intimidating. “You’re giving me no choice,” he said, then he grabbed his jacket, turned on his heel and stalked away.

What now? Lauren thought, watching Harley until he disappeared into the darkness. She had the sinking feeling she’d just awakened a sleeping giant. She should probably
go in and call her father right away. But for some reason, she didn’t want to talk to Quentin. Maybe it was because she’d bungled everything so badly and felt as though Harley’s reaction was largely her fault. Or maybe it was because she knew reporting what he’d just said would be like touching a match to kerosene. Her father would cut short his trip and come charging to the rescue, and that could very easily make Harley more determined to fight.

With a heavy sigh, she let herself into the cool dark house, wishing for the good old days of just last week. Harley had said she didn’t have a life, but he didn’t know what he was talking about. Until he’d arrived on the scene, she’d been perfectly happy. She had her family or what was left of it, Kimberly, other friends. And she kept herself busy with work at home and at the office. Besides the usual day-to-day stuff, she organized charity events—no one could run a fund-raiser like she could. What was missing? Nothing. She was fine. Harley was the one who needed to grow up and get a real job.

Haven’t you ever been in love?
he’d asked, as if he knew so much about it. She didn’t see a wife tagging along behind
him.
And she’d bet her last dollar he didn’t have any other children—at least legitimate ones.

“You’re no expert on love,” she said aloud as she made her way through the empty house. “I don’t need to listen to you.” But she was upset and confused and wanted to listen to somebody. Or maybe she wanted someone to listen to her.

Slumping into the chair at the kitchen desk, she drummed her fingers on the oak top and stared at the phone. She probably had a custody suit on her hands, which wouldn’t be very pleasant for anybody. But she’d win. Of course she’d win. She had a ten-year track record of providing her nephew with good care and a stable en
vironment. And if the judge left the decision up to Brandon, he’d refuse to leave her. He’d tell everyone he was happy right where he was.

Wouldn’t he?

“A
REN’T YOU COMING
to get Brandon?”

Lauren yawned and tried to scrub away the imprint of her arms on her cheek. She’d fallen asleep slumped over the kitchen desk and hadn’t stirred until the phone wakened her just moments earlier. “Kimberly?”

“Yeah. Didn’t your alarm go off?”

“I never made it to bed last night. What time is it?”

“Nearly eight.”

Eight! Brandon had to be at school in twenty minutes. “Oh, dear. Brandon’s going to be late. I’ll grab my keys and be right over.”

“You okay?”

Lauren wasn’t sure. “I think so.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about getting Brandon to school this morning?”

“Don’t you have any job interviews?”

“Not today. And Brandon’s got his toothbrush, so that’s not an issue.”

“What about his clothes and backpack?”

“We’ll swing by the house. Be right there.”

“Sorry for the extra trouble, Kim.”

“Don’t be. I’ve got it handled.”

She hung up and Lauren yawned once more, then sank back onto her arms. She wasn’t ready to wake up because once she did, she’d have to face the day.

The phone rang again, and she eyed it dubiously. Probably her parents, wondering how things were going. She
reached out to answer, then caught herself. She wasn’t ready to talk to her father. She didn’t know what to say. She knew he’d gladly give Harley the fight he was looking for, but she didn’t want Brandon in the middle of a tug-of-war.

The ringing continued until the answering machine picked up. Lauren adjusted the volume so she could hear if the caller left a message.

“Lauren, this is Damien. My brother said Brandon’s dad is in town, which has me a little worried. I know how you feel about Brandon and what your father thinks of Harley. And with you being there alone and everything, I just thought I’d call and see how you’re getting on….”

He paused, and Lauren fought the urge to pick up the phone. She liked Damien a great deal, had once hoped to fall in love with him, but for whatever reason, her heart had refused to cooperate. She’d broken it off, and he’d finally stopped calling her. It probably wouldn’t be wise to renew contact with him, but she was so lonely and confused. And he sort of knew Harley through Tank. Maybe he and his brother could convince Harley to back off.

“Call me when you get this mess—”

She grabbed the telephone before he could hang up. “Damien?”

“Lauren? You’re home?”

“I am. Sorry about the delay. I wasn’t quite awake.”

“Doesn’t school start soon?” he asked.

“Kimberly’s driving Brandon for me today.”

“Why, is something wrong?”

“I didn’t get much sleep. Harley Nelson’s pressing me to see Brandon, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Your father would have a coronary if you so much as let Harley in the door.”

“I know, but my father’s still in Europe, and Harley’s
going to sue for custody if we don’t come to some understanding.”

“Let him sue, Lauren. I’m a personal injury attorney; I don’t know much about family law. But he abandoned Audra when she was pregnant with Brandon and has never paid a dime of child support. I don’t think the courts will be very sympathetic to him.”

Lauren moved her hands away from her mouth so she wouldn’t be tempted to bite her nails. “I’m not so sure. Aren’t judges notorious for favoring a child’s birth parents?”

“That’s in adoption cases.”

“Exactly my point. I’m merely Brandon’s guardian.”

“I know, but I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’m more worried about Harley taking matters into his own hands.”

“What does that mean? You can’t mean he’ll try to
kidnap
Brandon?”

“Who can say? My brother doesn’t think he’d go that far, but—”

“But this is the brother who ate thirty pieces of pie at a pep rally in high school, then threw up all over Kimberly, right?”

Damien sounded embarrassed when he answered. “That’s Tank. But your father won’t let anything happen to Brandon.”

Quentin was halfway across the world. How could he stop Harley from snatching Brandon? How could he stop him from suing for custody? “Even if he was home, I don’t see that my father has any more options than I do.”

“Don’t kid yourself, babe. He has options.”

Lauren felt a headache coming on. Too many sleepless nights and worry-filled days. “If he has so many options, what are they?”

“He’d handle it like he did ten years ago.”

“He’d threaten him with bodily injury? Have you seen Harley these days?”

Damien made a noise that sounded like a snort. “Your father wouldn’t fight him, Lauren. He’d buy him off.”

Buy him off?
Lauren sat up tall, stunned because it was the first time she’d actually considered that Harley might be after something other than Brandon. He hadn’t seemed insincere about wanting to meet his son. But he’d taken money from her father years ago. Maybe he was back for more.

“Just think about it,” Damien was saying. “A few thousand dollars and the problem goes away.”

“But Harley said he loves Brandon.”

“If he loved him, he would’ve come around long before now, right? Cash is king with guys like him.”

Lauren pictured Harley in his leather jacket, sitting astride his motorcycle, and remembered the neighborhood where he used to live. “He
could
probably use the money. I doubt he makes a very good living.”

“What does he do?”

“He sells motorcycles.”

Damien chuckled. “Just what I would’ve expected. Now I
know
he’s after money.”

Lauren played with the phone cord, relieved to have found a possible solution to her dilemma but sick at the same time—sick that Harley would use his own son for financial gain. Somehow, something in his eyes had made her believe he was sincere…. “How much should I offer him?”

“I don’t know. Just remember that he’ll probably take you for as much as he can get, so start low.”

“Ten thousand?”

“Do you have that much on hand?” he asked.

“I can get it.”

“Then start with five.”

“Okay.”

A pause. “Are you nervous about meeting with him? Do you want me to be there?”

Lauren was tempted to say yes but stopped herself. This was Damien, the Damien she’d broken up with several months earlier because she couldn’t love him, the Damien who wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t fair to accept help from him now, not when it would only raise his hopes again.

“That’s okay,” she said as the door burst open and Brandon came charging into the house.

“Hi, Aunt Lauren!” he called.

Lauren smiled and waved as he jogged through the kitchen on the way to his room. Kimberly appeared a moment later wearing a tennis skirt, her face devoid of makeup, her streaked hair pulled into a ponytail beneath a navy visor. She selected a banana from the bowl on the table, then looked Lauren up and down. “Hey, weren’t you wearing that last night?”

“Listen, I have to go, Damien,” Lauren said, “but I really appreciate the call. I-I hadn’t thought of things in quite this way.”

“Glad I could help.” He hesitated. “It’s great to hear from you, you know. I really miss you.”

She didn’t want to hear the sentimental note in his voice, wasn’t about to let him turn the conversation to anything personal. Not this morning. “Um, thanks,” she said lamely. “I appreciate your…friendship.”

“Friendship?” he echoed.

“Damien, I—”

“Forget it. I know.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy, but Lauren couldn’t do anything to change the way she felt. Lord knows she’d already tried. “I’m sorry. I wish things could be different.”

“Sure you do,” he said, then the phone clicked and he was gone.

“What’s up with you and Damien?” Kimberly de
manded as soon as Lauren had hung up. “You told me you two were over for good.”

Lauren sighed. “We were. I mean we
are.
He just called because—” she craned her neck to see down the hall that led to Brandon’s room “—he heard You-Know-Who was in town.”

“He did? How?”

She lowered her voice. “Because Harley’s staying with his younger brother.”

“Tank?”

“Yeah. They used to hang out together, remember?”

“How could I ever forget? We were ogling Harley when Tank threw up all over me on the way out of that assembly in high school.”

Lauren grimaced. “Not a pleasant association.”

“Definitely not.” She opened the trash compactor and tossed the banana peel inside. “So?”

“So what?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what Damien had to say?”

Lauren checked for Brandon again, but found the hall empty. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for sure, but she had bigger concerns this morning. “He said Harley’s probably after money. He said I should buy him off like my father did ten years ago.”

Kimberly’s brows arched above her hazel eyes. “Has Harley asked for money?”

“Shhh,” Lauren whispered. “Brandon will hear you.”

“Well, has he?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t accept it.”

Kimberly crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Is that what your father thinks, too?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren said, shrugging off the question. “I haven’t talked to him.”

“Why not? Can’t you reach him?”

“I haven’t tried yet. I—”

“I’m ready, Aunt Kim,” Brandon said, returning to the kitchen. “Oh, boy,” he said, frowning at the clock. “We have to go.”

“Did you get breakfast?” Lauren asked him.

“What, you think I’d send him to school hungry?” Kimberly said.

“Just checking.” Lauren gave Brandon a hug and a kiss. “Have a great day, sweetheart. I’ll see you when I pick you up this afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we can play another game of Hearts.”

“Cool.” He hitched his backpack over his shoulder and started out. Kimberly followed a few steps behind but threw Lauren one last glance before disappearing into the living room.

“How much are you going to offer him?” she asked.

“As much as it takes, so long as I’ve got it,” Lauren said.

“Well…” Kimberly gazed distractedly after Brandon. “Don’t do anything till I get back.”

“S
O WHAT’S THE PLAN
?”
Kimberly asked as soon as she returned from taking Brandon to school.

Lauren sat at the kitchen table next to her friend, drinking the iced cappuccino Kimberly had brought her. The sun streamed in through the French doors that lined the back of the house, and the fresh flowers that normally graced the table were pushed off to the side. “I don’t really have one yet,” she said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the vacuum. The maid service had arrived only minutes earlier, and a tall, lean woman was cleaning the bedrooms. “I went through my checkbook and savings account statements while you were gone, trying to figure out how much money I can lay my hands on right away.”

“And?” The diamond tennis bracelet on Kimberly’s
wrist slid partway up her arm as she took a sip of her own cappuccino. “What’s the grand total?”

“Fifteen thousand seven hundred eighty-nine dollars.” Lauren circled the figure beneath the column of numbers she’d added together on the pad she normally kept by the phone. “That is, if I don’t break the Certificate of Deposit Nana gave me when I graduated from college.”

“Fifteen thousand, huh?” Kimberly twirled her bracelet with two perfectly sculpted nails. “That doesn’t sound like much, kiddo. You could get a lot more if you called your father. I’m sure he’s got plenty stashed away.”

“I doubt much of it’s liquid. He keeps his money pretty tied up in investments. Besides, Harley’s never had much. I think fifteen thousand will sound like a fortune to him.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to call your father about this?”

Lauren frowned as she pictured speaking with Quentin. Couldn’t she wait until she’d cleaned up this mess she’d made? It would be so much more pleasant to tell him with a smile in her voice that he didn’t need to worry any longer: Brandon was safe, they were all safe, she’d taken care of everything.

“What more can my father do than I’m already doing?” she asked.

Kimberly adjusted her visor. “It just seems like he’d want to be involved. What if your plan backfires?”

“It can’t backfire,” Lauren argued. “We offer Harley money, he rejects the offer, we sweeten the pot. It’s that simple. Pretty soon, we’ll reach a number he can’t refuse.”

“I don’t think I’d accept any amount of money, not if it meant giving up my child.”

“He’s not you. He’s always been dirt poor. And he’s not ‘giving up’ Brandon. He did that a long time ago. This is just—” she shrugged “—insurance that he’ll stay out of the way until Brandon grows to adulthood.”

“Okay,” Kimberly said, but she didn’t sound very convinced.

“The problem is how to approach him,” Lauren went on. “Should I call him and arrange a meeting? Or show up at Tank’s apartment and hope to catch him off guard?”

Leaning back, Kimberly crossed her feet at the ankles and toyed with the white pleats on her skirt. “It would help if we knew him better,” she mused. “Do you think Damien could tell you more about what he’s like?”

Lauren propped her elbows on the table. “Damien doesn’t really know him. He was out of high school by the time Harley was a freshman.”

“Jeez, I didn’t realize Damien’s so old.”

“He’s eight years older than we are.”

“Okay, so what about Tank? Do you think we can enlist his help?”

“Are you kidding? Harley’s his friend.”

“Wait, I got it.” Clapping her hands, Kimberly shot out of her chair and did a palms up “ta-da.” “We spy on him!”

“What?” Lauren cried. “No way!”

“Don’t say
no
yet. I’ve seen it done in lots of TV shows. We simply get a pair of binoculars and stake out Tank’s place. We watch what Harley does, get a feel for what he’s like, and let that help us with our decisions. If he’s drinking heavily or doing drugs or entertaining one woman after another, we can feel justified in buying him off, fighting him to the death, whatever. Because then we’ll know his true nature, right?”