The Naughty Corner (10 page)

“Where is she?” Andrea screamed. Her sister thought she had to yell over Skype as if it were a bad phone connection.

“We got her out of bed, Mom.”

“Out of bed?” her sister screeched. “Didn’t she make you a healthy breakfast?”

Lola nudged Harry out of the chair. “They’re capable of making their own healthy breakfast.” Although she’d let them buy Cap’n Crunch cereal on the first grocery expedition. Of course they’d complained of “crunch mouth” the next day. She was a bad aunt.

“Lola,” Andrea said peevishly, “you look like crap.”

“Thank you very much,” she answered dryly. “You wanted to speak to me?” During every Skype call Lola hadn’t been able to get out of, Andrea had a list of instructions for her. Most of which Lola ignored.

“I most certainly do.” Every muscle in Andrea’s face pulled into a scowl. “How on earth could you allow them to drive with a newly licensed teenager?”

“He got his license a year ago,” William piped in.

“If you live for eighty years, twelve months is nothing,” Andrea snapped. “Do you know that 95 percent of accidents involve teenage drivers?”

“Wow. I’ve never heard that statistic.” Lola didn’t believe it. Andrea was simply pulling it out of her . . . hat.

“Teenage drinking and driving is the leading cause of highway deaths.”

Lola didn’t roll her eyes. It would only make things worse. “It was the afternoon. They went to a movie. There was no drinking.” She certainly hadn’t smelled anything on their breath.

The twins hovered over her shoulder, getting into the picture. “No way, Mom,” Harry defended. “We were not drinking.”

“I’m talking to your aunt Lola. And it isn’t what actually happened but what could have happened that’s the issue.”

Lola thought of that old philosopher—she couldn’t remember which one—who’d once said something to the effect that he’d had many tragedies in his life, most of which never happened. That was Andrea, dwelling on things that never happened.

“Yes, well, they’re fine, Andrea.”

“And who is this kid anyway? Did you meet his parents?”

“Uhh . . .” Meet his parents? Maybe that was a mom thing; the idea had never even occurred to Lola. It was a good thing she’d never had kids of her own.

“You didn’t.” Aghast, Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “What’s his name?”

Harry jumped in before Lola could further incriminate herself. “Arby.”

Arby? Like the fast food restaurant? Whatever.

“Did you even meet him, Lola?” Andrea glared, the look hot enough to melt the computer screen. “You didn’t,” she finished when Lola failed to answer immediately. She leaned into the webcam, her face filling the entire screen, which gave her the bloated cheeks of a puffer fish. “What if he isn’t really sixteen? Or he’s older and he’s some sort of child molester? Do you realize what might have
happened
?” Her voice was rising to hysteria.

First teenage drinking, now child molesters? Okay, she
wouldn’t
make good mom material, but honestly, Andrea was over the top. “You’re catastrophizing, Andrea.”

Her sister’s face looked ready to explode all over the screen.

“Oh wow, Mom, you’re getting fuzzy.” Harry waved his hand in front of the webcam. “I think we’re losing the signal. Mom, Mom, can you hear us? Mom?” He hit a button on the keyboard and Andrea disappeared.

Thank God. Maybe Harry possessed some redeeming qualities after all.

“Can we go to the mall today?” William asked as if he hadn’t been hovering over her shoulder for the entire conversation.

“Not a good idea,” she said. “Because I’m not sure how I could possibly meet every teenager you might come in contact with, not to mention potential pedophiles.” Okay, she shouldn’t employ sarcasm about their mother. Andrea had a point. Lola had let them get in a car with a kid she didn’t even know. It wasn’t catastrophizing to ask what she’d have done if they hadn’t come home on time or answered their cell phones. She’d had no phone number to call, no parents to contact. It was negligent.

Harry rolled his eyes at her militant look. “Come on, Aunt Lola. We’re going stir crazy. We’ll keep our cell phones on at all times, and we won’t get in a car with any strangers.”

They were closer to sixteen than fifteen. She and Andrea had prowled the mall for hours when they were fifteen, and even fourteen and thirteen. What was being overprotective versus letting kids have some fun?

“All right, you can go.” She glared and gritted her teeth at them. “But do not get into any trouble.” Really, how much trouble could they get into at the mall?

Stores. Spending. Andrea’s credit cards.

“And do
not
use your mother’s credit cards.”

They gave her identical eye rolls. “We’re just going to the arcade,” Harry said.

She contemplated their singularly innocent faces, sure they were planning something. “Fine. I’ll drop you off after we’ve showered and had an extremely healthy breakfast.” The mall should be open by then. “And don’t forget your driving lesson. I’ll pick you up at one.”

Jeez. Being an aunt was hard work.

8

“YOUR WIFE’S HERE, MR. BARNETT. SHALL I SEND HER IN?”

Bettina was his
ex
-wife, but Gray didn’t correct his secretary. He hit the intercom button. “Send her in.”

Mondays were his only full day in the office during the summer while he ran the football camp. His weekly executive staff meeting was at ten-thirty. He glanced at his watch. Bettina could have five minutes, which was all the time he could spare.

She strolled in garbed in a black dress with red piping along the collar and a full skirt. She accented the outfit with red lipstick, choker-length red beads, and red high heels. When they were married, her attire of choice had been sweatpants.

“You look nice,” he complimented. “A lunch date?”

She sat in the chair opposite, spreading the skirt out elegantly. “I’m going to a poetry reading at a local teahouse. It’s high tea. We need to dress the part.”

Not a date, then. Bettina had not dated since the divorce five years ago. She’d gotten the house, he’d gotten the mortgage. Her lifestyle would be maintained unless she remarried. He could only hope, but he didn’t believe she was interested in men anymore; she hadn’t been interested in sex since Rafe was born. But she was a great mom.

“Rafe needs a car,” she said, her words clipped. “I can’t keep driving him everywhere or letting him borrow my car. It just isn’t workable anymore.”

When Rafe was born, they’d both decided she should be a stay-at-home mom. Division of labor, anything outside the house was his bailiwick. So he’d done the yard work every weekend and gone to the office every day, traveled as necessary, climbing the corporate ladder in order to buy a bigger house, the cars, save for the college fund, pay the bills, and provide health insurance. Bettina had done everything else. Taking Rafe to his various activities had been part of
everything else
.

Nothing had changed since the divorce except that Rafe hated him and Bettina held him in contempt.

“He has a bike,” he said mildly, sitting back, clasping his hands over his stomach.

She snorted. “Oh, be serious.” She tossed her highlighted blond hair over her shoulder. Rafe’s black hair had come from him, a dominant trait.

He smiled slightly. He’d known it would piss her off. He wasn’t sure whose idea it was to have him buy Rafe a car. Was she pushing Rafe, or was he pushing her? “When I was his age, I had to earn money to buy my first car.”

Bettina gave a long-suffering sigh. “And your father had to walk five miles in the snow to get to school every day.”

Gray’s family was all back East. It was
her
father who had loved that old saying, even though he’d been born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area where there was no snow except in the mountains, and even that was rare.

“He shouldn’t be handed everything, Bettina.”

“He’s not.” Her lips pursed and her nostrils flared.

She was still as angry with him as the day she’d told him she was getting a divorce. Yet he’d done his best for her and Rafe. She’d been a good mother, and he’d been a good provider. The divorce had nothing to do with the few sexy spankings he’d given her in the early years. She’d never complained. They’d had fun. Then she’d changed after Rafe was born. Sex became a duty for her, no longer a pleasure.

It was his traveling that finally did their marriage in, though. She never considered how grueling it was for him, especially coming home to her harping. Then she’d started accusing him of sleeping with other women while he was away. He hadn’t, though he could never figure out why she cared anyway since she was no longer interested. When she’d divorced him, it was almost a relief. Except that he’d lost his son as well.

“Do you know how much homework kids have these days?” Bettina went on. “Not to mention all the after-school activities like soccer and—” She stopped, glared at him. “Oh, I forgot, you can’t make the soccer games.”

It was an old fight. Gray cut it off. She did have a point about activities, and a car would be easier. Why was he fighting so hard? Bitterness? Was he punishing Bettina? Perhaps it was time he got over it, for Rafe’s sake. “All right,” he sighed. “I’ll take him out this weekend. I’m sure we can find him a good used car.”

“You’re such a cheap bastard, Gray.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s a teenager. He needs something flashy and fun. Like a Mustang. Or a big truck he can impress his friends with. Don’t get him something girlie or old man.”

“I’m not buying him a car just to impress his friends.”

She rose quickly, leaned over the desk, poking her finger close to his face. “Do not make me a laughingstock in the neighborhood by buying him an old, used beater car.” Having the last word as always, she left in a swirl of skirt, her perfume still hanging in the air.

He sat for a long moment. He didn’t want to buy off his son with an expensive new car. He wanted Rafe to learn the value of money and hard work. But he wouldn’t buy him an old piece of crap either. He wanted reliability. Bettina should know that.

His secretary buzzed him. “Mr. Barnett, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

The staff meeting, he was late.

Gathering his folder, he thought of Lola for no particular reason. Hell, there was a very particular reason. She made him feel good. When he closed his front door, all the crap fell away. He wanted her tonight. But he’d have to wait until tomorrow when Harry and William used their cell phones, played their video consoles, or picked on Stu. Because they would do something. They always did. And Lola would be his.

Despite Bettina’s visit, Gray was smiling as he joined the meeting.

* * *

ON TUESDAY, THEY WERE ANGELS. WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT? GRAY
wondered if he should provoke them.

“Use your body to shield the ball from the opposing team, William.”

The opposing team consisted of several tackling dummies and his brother, Harry. He had the boys performing a fumble-recovery drill. He’d chosen Harry and William for the first demonstration, employing the slide technique because they were of equal size.

Having played high school football, he knew all the drills. As a wide receiver, he’d had a fair degree of skill, but he hadn’t chosen to go on to college football.

“All right, this time let’s have Stu and—” He glanced around. The problem was none of the other boys were Stu’s relative size. He thought about putting Rafe up against him, Rafe being the oldest of the boys. Instead, he chose one of the slighter players. “Roger, you try it.”

The reality was you were going to face guys who were bigger, but sometimes the little guy had more agility. The drill would help Roger work with that. He waited for some sly comment from the twins about the difference in size and weight. They simply watched as Stu and Roger took their positions.

He tossed the ball, simulating the fumble. Before Roger even moved, Stu leaped and fell on the ball, capturing it firmly. The boy had more in him than Gray had originally thought. His skills were improving.

He clapped twice. “Good job.”

The other boys cheered, even the twins, and pounded Stu on the back when he rose. It was perfect.

Something had to be wrong. They were
too
perfect. Maybe Lola had had a talk with them. Maybe she didn’t want another punishment.
Nah
, he told himself with an inward smile.

After the fumble recovery, he moved the boys into a zigzag-agility drill. This one was more difficult. Setting up a line of cones, the player was required to move forward, backward, and sideways through the cones as another player passed the ball to him.

No one, not even the twins, laughed when Stu tripped. He wasn’t the only one tripping and dropping the ball.

“Great job,” he called to each kid in turn. He believed the effort should be as recognized as the result.

As the morning progressed, Gray encouraged and challenged, applauded and beat the air with his fist over each and every boy’s triumph. The field was scuffed, full of divots, the boys hot, sweaty, dirty, grass-stained, but smiling. At a quarter to one, he sent them all to the showers, but Rafe sidled up to him.

“Mom says you have to drive me home. She’s got an appointment.”

“All right.” He realized it was a ploy on Bettina’s part, but he’d take the extra time with his son. “Go get showered.”

Once Rafe had jogged off the field, Gray pulled out his cell phone and punched in Lola’s number.

He didn’t let her get a word out beyond
hello
. “My house, six o’clock. Be prepared.”

“Dammit”—she sighed—“what did they do now?”

“Unnecessary teasing,” he said sharply. “This is going to be big-time punishment.” He was already anticipating, gearing up.

“Yes, Coach,” she said, and he detected a note of amusement.

“Don’t be late.” He ended the call, again without letting her say another word.

A case could be made that he was getting a little obsessive about her, but damn, it felt good. He wanted her. He was going to have her. And the twins lack of misbehavior wouldn’t stand in his way.