The War of the Roses: The Children (8 page)

“What about Angela's career? She'd be finished here. How can we possibly work together after that?”

Dominic nodded his head.

“Now we're making headway, man. I don't want no sleazy under-the-table deal here. What do you think we are? What I'm lookin' for here is a private settlement. A legal piece of paper that goes right into the vault. And a check. The real thing. The paper says you sexually harassed her and the two hundred thou is your settlement chip. It also says that you can't bad-mouth Angela ever. You're right, man. She can't work here. You said yourself she's good. I want that paper to say that if anyone asks about her you tell the truth about her work. No paybacks. What do you think, because I'm Italian, I'm some Mafia hood? I'm talkin' legal here.”

“Legal?” Josh snapped. “Besides, you'd be asking me to put my signature on a lie. I did not sexually harass her.”

“Hey man, don't talk to me about lies. Here you are porkin' my wife and lying to yours. Come on now. Get real,” Dominic said, still picking at the imaginary lint. “Think a minute and take a look at the other side. We could just as easy go to your bosses. You think they want the stink of a harassment lawsuit? We go to them for the settlement. What would you do if you were them?”

“Fight it. You think they're that stupid? Word gets out that they're a patsy for this kind of payoff and there'll be others standing in line. You can't keep these things hidden. They've got lawyers on the payroll for just such contingencies. It will cost you a fortune to fight them and you might just lose. And no one in the field will touch Angela with a ten-foot pole.”

He was beginning to find his courage now. I will not let this happen, he told himself. He'd show this son of a bitch what he was made of. “Listen, you low-life little crud. I don't know how you got Angela to go along with this, but I got a pretty good idea. You might as well get the whole story. You should know that we fucked our brains out, every chance we got, anywhere, like rabbits in heat. Best blowjob ever. Swallows, too. Loves to take it up the ass.”

Josh felt a nerve palpitate in his jaw. His breath came in gasps. Was this Josh Rose talking? His mind raced with images of their sexual frenzy. The irony was that he was spouting the truth. He watched Dominic fight to retain his cool, but the sudden flush attested to how deeply Josh's words had struck. He wasn't finished. “Poor deprived Dom. She told me she doesn't play those games with you. Says you pop too soon.” He paused and watched him squirm.

Dominic rose like a shot from the couch, the veins in his temples engorged. His eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets. Josh stood his ground. Suddenly one arm stiffened in Josh's direction, forefinger poised like the barrel of a pistol. He waved the finger in Josh's face, bending his arm, so that he was eyeball to eyeball. He began to speak and Josh felt a shower of saliva on his face.

“You fuck. I tried to be nice. So here's the deal. I want a certified check for two hundred thousand bucks made out to Angela Bocci, and I want your signature on this piece of paper. He pulled out an envelope from his inside jacket packet. “Read it. Get your own lawyer if you want to.” He took the paper out of the envelope and pushed it in Josh's face. “See that signature on the bottom. Angela Bocci, notarized and all legal. You sign it and get it notarized. Hell, they do it at the bank where you're gonna get the bread. Two hundred thousand. Not a penny less. All wrapped nice and legal. We'll even give you a copy for your records. I figure a guy like you could get a check cut… say, by eleven tomorrow. I'm gonna make it easy. I'll stop by to pick up the paper and the dough. You don't even have to see me.”

Dominic straightened his blazer, which had ridden up on his shoulders, shot his cuffs, and did a little neck dance as if to ease the tension.

“Don't even think about it. Just do it.”

Josh finally found his voice. When he spoke it sounded reedy and uncertain.

“What you're asking is impossible.”

“Hell, you're the creative man here. Come up with a way. If you don't have it, borrow it. Call it a bridge loan. Who the fuck cares? We're not playing games here.”

“Even if I found a way…,” Josh began, then paused to catch his breath. “I couldn't do it that fast.” He was about to tell him that his wife handles the finances, but held back.

“Don't be dumb, Rose. Do it. And read the paper. Lets you off the hook, too. It's a settlement, man. Make the deal. We're outta here.”

Dominic straightened his blazer, shot his cuffs yet again, offered a version of a military salute as a good-bye gesture and left the office. Josh stood rooted to the floor, too stunned to move.

His telephone rang. He could not summon the energy to answer it. After a while the ringing stopped, and he could hear his voice mail kick in. He managed to reach the couch and lay down. More calls came in. He didn't answer them. The calls continued. Still he did not answer them. Then, from out of the depths of his consciousness, he began to realize that the amount of calls he was getting seemed inordinate. He picked up the phone and tapped into his voice mail. There were more than six urgent messages from Angela. He saw it as a grain of hope and called her home.

“How could you?” he began when he heard her voice. She cut him off.

“Forgive me, Josh. Please forgive me. I had no choice.”

She sounded on the verge of hysteria.

“No choice?”

“He knew. The priest told him. You know, hinted. They were buddies. But I didn't think… I swear. Dominic knew about us for weeks. Then last night I went to confession and told him it was all over. After, they made me come to this meeting and then forced me to tell them everything. I can't believe a priest would do this, even if he claimed it was only a hint to keep my marriage together for the sake of my children. Oh God, I don't want to lose my children.”

“Why have you done this to me, Angela? He wants two hundred thousand dollars. And you signed that paper.”

“They made me.”

“You're trying to destroy my life.”

“They made me, Josh. I'm so sorry.”

“You're sorry?”

He felt as if he were talking into a tunnel, making sounds that she could not hear.

“Pay him, Josh. Pay him. I beg you.”

“I don't understand, Angela,” he cried, raising his voice.

“He'll take my children. You don't know him. He will.”

Josh was dumbfounded. He searched his mind for some appropriate answer.

“We seem to have competing agendas, Angela,” he whispered, hanging up. It seemed a stern and officious statement. He felt trapped, unable to think straight. Again he lay down on his couch. The hours slid by. He felt enervated. There were fewer telephone calls. Still he could not find the energy to answer them.

After agonizing away most of the day, he called the one person in the world that would never be judgmental, the one person who loved him without reservation.

“I'm in trouble, baby,” he said.

There was a sudden gasp.

“An accident, Josh? Are the kids okay? Victoria?”

“Nothing like that, Evie. It's me.”

“I'm here, darling.”

“I need you, Evie.”

“Come to supper. I'll make you a wonderful meal.”

“Don't bother, Evie. Please.”

“For my dearest most wonderful brother, why not?”

Then he called Victoria's cell phone. It didn't answer, which was strange. He called the house and left a message on the answering machine that he was having dinner at his sister's home.

Mr. Tatum called and informed Victoria that the dispute was over, that the Crespos had surrendered their position. The news should have been received with joy and relief. Instead, she felt uncomfortable, the perpetrator of a deception.

The call roused her to action. She knew what she had to do. Most people would think it foolhardy. And if it resulted in bad consequences for Michael, Josh would be furious. But her instincts told her that Mr. Tatum would welcome honesty and understand her motives. He might be a bit stiff and priggish about some things, but she felt certain that he knew the psychology of students of that age and would be fully aware of the principles she was trying to instill in the rearing of her son.

She called Mr. Tatum's office for an appointment and he had quickly obliged. As she drove, she turned off her cell phone. She did not want to tell Josh what she had in mind or where she was going. She would tell him only after the fact.

When she arrived, Mr. Tatum stood up to greet her, then sat down at his desk. He moved quickly through the small talk of welcome, made his trademark finger cathedral, fixed his eyes on her face, and waited for her explanation.

“I'm sorry to disturb you today, Mr. Tatum, but there is something you must know about the….” She had decided not to mention the Milky Ways. Mention of the objects was too trivializing. Besides, the issue was truth and candor here. The confection itself, in this context, was an absurdity. Instead, she said, “the incident with the Crespos.”

“I thought I made that clear. It's a thing of the past.” Mr. Tatum smiled. Victoria had the sensation that she was being studied with an intensity she had not sensed before.

“Not to me,” Victoria said. “I would like to call Michael in here and let him speak his piece.”

“Really, Mrs. Rose, that is not necessary.”

“It is to me. And please don't tell him that the matter has been closed.”

“Very well,” Mr. Tatum said. He pressed a button on the console on his desk and asked that Michael Rose be brought to his office. Then he swiveled back on his chair and continued to study Victoria with penetrating eye contact.

“If it means that much to you, Mrs. Rose, then I certainly would like to oblige,” Mr. Tatum said. “We educators must work in tandem with parents. Nothing happens in isolation.”

Michael arrived, flushed and nervous. Victoria brushed his hair back and kissed him on the cheek.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Victoria said. “I just thought it would clear the air if you told Mr. Tatum what you told Dad and me last night.”

“This is your mother's idea, Michael,” Mr. Tatum said, offering Michael a benign smile.

Only slightly reassured, Michael recounted the story he had told his parents the night before. Mr. Tatum smiled and nodded through the confession.

“I do appreciate this, Michael. It is, indeed, a sign of courage and good character.” He paused for a long time, cutting a glance at Victoria. “Unfortunately, young man, the question remains.” Suddenly, Mr. Tatum's expression, which had seemed friendly and benign, turned severe. “You knew, of course, that you were violating the sacred rule of Pendleton, our honor system. Surely, you knew that. Then to compound it with lies.”

Michael flushed and looked helplessly toward his mother. It was a tougher reaction than Victoria had expected. She had believed that he would be a willing partner with her in her son's chastisement. After all, the purpose of the exercise was to teach him that lies demanded penalties. She dismissed her anxiety, half expecting him to throw her a wink at any moment.

“That's why he's here, Mr. Tatum. To clear the air. To absolve himself.”

“Confession is not absolution in this context, Mrs. Rose,” Mr. Tatum said, his expression growing in severity. “You must realize,” he said, offering a deep sigh as if his words were too painful to utter, “that this violation of our honor code alone is grounds for summary suspension. We at Pendleton have never tolerated such an infraction. Never. There have been no exceptions. None.” He turned toward Michael. “As for your deliberate lies, they go even further to influence the expulsion action that I am compelled to consider.”

Victoria felt her innards freeze. She studied Mr. Tatum's face looking for clues to his intention. The very word “expulsion” was a spear point that had found its mark.

Michael's lips quivered and his eyes glazed. Surely this was his way of driving the point home. Victoria's heart went out to her son. It's purely a tactic, she reasoned. Mr. Tatum was wise and experienced. Wasn't he merely carrying out her plan? After all, how could Michael possibly learn that a lie had consequences if severe punishment wasn't, at the very least, considered as a possibility?

“I can assure you, Mr. Tatum, and Michael would agree that this… infraction… the lies as well… will never, ever happen again. Isn't that so, Michael?”

Michael nodded. She noted that his legs seemed to be shaking under his pants.

“Tell Mr. Tatum,” she prodded.

“Never, Mr. Tatum. I promise.”

“A bit on the late side, young man.” He turned to Victoria. “I'm not certain, Mrs. Rose,” he said calmly, “that I can bend the rules, even in this case.”

“You seem serious,” Victoria blurted, on the point of panic. How could she have so profoundly misread his reaction?

“Dead serious, Mrs. Rose,” Mr. Tatum said, his words intoned through his finger cathedral.

“Surely, the fact that he has come forward….” Victoria's voice cracked and she had to clear her throat.

“That does not mitigate the circumstances,” Mr. Tatum said gravely. Her heartbeat accelerated. She felt faint. She looked at her son, who stood shaking and ashen-faced in front of Mr. Tatum's desk. “Rules are rules.”

“But you said if he did come forward, he would be forgiven,” Victoria pleaded.

“Earlier. If I recall, I said earlier.”

“My God, what have I done?”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Rose, I'm going to have to take this matter under advisement.”

Was this tough love she had pushed him into? Or a scarring lifetime trauma? She could hardly believe Mr. Tatum's threats. In her scenario honesty was to be rewarded with, at the least, understanding and compassion.

“And what of the Crespo girl?” Victoria said lamely. “She tempted him to violate the rules.”

“That, Mrs. Rose, is Michael's story.”

“Well then, confront her.”

“We've already had quite enough confrontations on the matter. I am, after all, responsible for the entire school, not the concerns of one or two students. We have a standard to be maintained.”

“Are you serious, Mr. Tatum?”

“Very.”

“Could you please dismiss Michael now?” she asked, swallowing hard, sensing the pleading in her voice.

“You may go, Michael,” Mr. Tatum said severely.

Michael glanced toward his mother. She saw the look of helplessness in his eyes.

“Don't worry, Michael. It will be all right,” she said kissing her son's cheek. His skin felt hot and she knew he was about to cry. Tears would come, she was certain, as soon as he left the office.

“Well, he certainly should feel chastised now, Mr. Tatum,” Victoria said when her son had gone. “I thank you for that, Mr. Tatum.” She searched his face, hoping to see the expected smile of complicity. It never came.

“You've put me in a terrible position, Mrs. Rose,” Mr. Tatum said. He got up from his chair and planted himself on the front edge of the desk, directly facing Victoria. He crossed his legs. “Expulsion is a real possibility, I'm afraid.”

“I don't believe this,” Victoria mumbled, completely confused.

“I'm sorry about this, Mrs. Rose. I really am.”

“But surely such a confession counts for something. It was my idea. I wanted the lesson to sink in.”

“I'm sure it did, Mrs. Rose.” Mr. Tatum said. “May I call you Victoria?”

He uncrossed his legs and put his palms on the surface of his desk.

“Of course,” Victoria replied, her mind completely dominated by her son's plight.

“You can call me Gordon,” Mr. Tatum said.

“You're not serious, then?” Victoria asked hopefully, seizing on this first-name intimacy as another hopeful sign. She noted that he had opened his thighs. The movement seemed inadvertent, and she averted her gaze.

“About what?”

Victoria's eyes drifted around his office.

“Expulsion,” she managed to whisper.

“There are good grounds here, Victoria. If I make this exception, the rules would be compromised.”

“But this is an eleven-year-old boy. Think of the trauma….”

“Victoria, I deal with children of that age every day of my life. Believe me, I understand. But I must not flinch at making such hard decisions. I have to think first of the impact on the entire student body and the reputation of Pendleton. If that is compromised then all my work is for naught.”

“Believe me, Mr. Tat… I mean, Gordon. I do understand that,” she pleaded, her confidence badly shaken. “My husband was against this. He was all for not coming forward. He doesn't know I'm here. Please, Gordon, don't let a mother's good intentions go awry. My children are everything to me.”

She felt him watching her as she opened her handbag and took out a tissue. Rarely had she ever cried. But the present circumstances were devastating. She had put her child in jeopardy. Never had she felt so totally defeated.

“Now, now,” Mr. Tatum said, leaning forward and putting both hands on her shoulders, drawing her to him.

“You mustn't do this to Michael,” Victoria pleaded, dabbing her eyes.

“I don't want to, Victoria. Believe me.”

“Please don't then.”

“You make one exception and the door is opened for others.”

“I'm pleading for my son, Mr. Tatum.”

“Gordon. Call me Gordon.”

It was only at that moment that she was aware of what was happening. Her cheek rested against his crotch and she suddenly realized that it was lying against his erection.

“Oh my God,” she cried, jumping out of the chair, breaking his grip on her shoulders.

“What is it, Victoria?” Mr. Tatum asked.

“I'm… I'm not sure.”

It had to be inadvertent. But she couldn't be certain. Sometimes, she had observed in both her husband and son that erections often occurred involuntarily in men, often at inappropriate moments. It suggested something that she was not willing to comprehend at this moment. But she could not dismiss the possibility.

Her eyes drifted to his crotch, which, through his pants, still showed signs of excitement. He made no move to conceal the view.

“Let it sit overnight, Victoria. I'll make no precipitous moves on expelling Michael. I am willing to keep an open mind, Victoria. Why don't you call me in the morning? Perhaps I'm being too….” He paused. “Unbending. Nothing is cast in stone. I could be persuaded. But I would suggest, however, that the matter be kept strictly between us. There is no need for your husband or the Crespos to know anything about this.”

She studied his face and nodded. She could find nothing in his benign expression to indicate any hidden motives. But his sexual exhibit and his admonition to keep the matter confidential were too suggestive to summarily dismiss.

“Believe me, this will not be an easy decision,” he continued. “I have to weigh all the pros and cons. I do see your point of view, Victoria. I'm not here to hurt people. Let's both think about this. Perhaps I have been too… too parochial and single-minded.” He paused for a long moment, studying her. “But I leave myself open to be persuaded.”

Open to be persuaded? Should she interpret this as a direct request for a sexual favor? She was not totally naïve, although she had never in her life ever been confronted by such a situation. But considering the stakes, she could not put it out of her mind.

“Until tomorrow then,” he said.

She nodded, rising from the chair, discovering that her knees wobbled.

He slipped off the desk and moved toward her. She tightened suddenly, expecting an embrace, but she did not make an effort to move away. He kissed her chastely on the cheek.

“I'll expect your call,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, turning, starting to move toward the door.

“Victoria,” he said sweetly.

She turned to face him.

“You're a very attractive woman.”

They exchanged glances for a moment. She felt sick with humiliation and despair both for herself and for Michael. What had she done?