Too Little, Too Late (12 page)

“Her name is Ashley,” Karen reminded him, unable to resist blowing bubbles through her straw. “Her dad invited me to go to Hawaii with them next summer.” She looked at her father hopefully. “Can I go?”

“We’ll see.”

She tried a different tact. “I saw that woman D.A. on TV the other night. I met her at your office a couple of months ago, remember? Did you get her pregnant yet?”

“You know I can’t talk about my patients.”

“Sorry. Whatever.”

“But since you asked, yes. She’s four months along.” He deftly picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it out to her. “Try one of these. They’re fantastic.”

“No thanks.” Karen wasn’t about to make things easy for him.

“How’s your Beemer running?”

“All right, I guess.”

“How’s your mother?”

She gave him a baleful glare. “Quit pretending like you care.”

Eric sighed, dragging a hand through his full head of hair. “Your mother and I still have feelings for one another. That’s never going to change.”

“Sure, Dad, whatever you say.” Karen brushed aside his explanation. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to her father’s bullshit. Although she blamed her parents’ breakup on her mother, her dad certainly had no business getting himself engaged to this Brooke chick she was about to meet.

“I saw one of your mother’s listings as I was driving over here,” he mentioned casually.

She grunted in response, finishing off the rest of her drink. “So, where is she?”

“Who?”

“Brooke,” Karen replied impatiently. The grass she’d smoked earlier in her car was wearing off, leaving her on edge. “Aren’t we supposed to be having lunch together like one big happy family-to-be?”

“Brooke’s running a little late but she should be here soon.” His eyes held her own. “Besides, this gives us a chance to get caught up.”

“On what?”

“On what’s going on in your life.”

“I thought we just covered all of that,” Karen told him woodenly.

“You’re deliberately making this difficult.”

“Probably because I think your whole marriage idea sucks,” she countered caustically. “I don’t see why you need to get married again, especially since you’ve already done it like a gazillion times. You could just live together like everyone else in L.A., for God’s sake! It’s not like anybody’s going to be shocked or anything.”

“I’ve only been married twice,” Eric reminded her. “Besides, shacking up with someone isn’t my style.”

“Come
on
, Dad!” Karen leaned forward, almost upturning the plate of dumplings in the process. “You barely even know Brooke—”

“Sorry I’m so late.” A breathless Brooke seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Both father and daughter looked up, startled. Eric quickly jumped up, allowing his fiancée to ease into the booth beside him before making the introductions.

“Brooke Connelly,” he said formally, “I’d like you to meet my daughter Karen.” He gave his daughter a pointed look. “Karen, this is Brooke.”

“Nice to meet you, Karen,” said Brooke quietly.

Instead of answering her, Karen brazenly sized up the competition for her father’s affection. Brooke was definitely a step up from the usual bimbos her father had been accustomed to dating lately. She was gorgeous and
very young compared to her fifty-six-year-old father.
 

“Nice going, Dad.” Karen leaned back, staring at Brooke rudely. “Does Caro know how young Brooke is?”

“Brooke’s age is none of your business,” retorted Eric, appearing nonplussed by his daughter’s rude remark.

Karen pretended to smile sweetly. “Did my dad tell you I have a step-sister who’s probably your age?”

“Your father’s told me all about you and Caroline,” Brooke replied just as sweetly.

“
What the hell is wrong with you?
” Eric hissed. “You wouldn’t be talking like this if your mother was here.”

Seeing the look of fury on her father’s face, Karen tried being more civil. “So - Dad says you have an interesting job.”

“I guess you could say that.” Brooke allowed herself a small smile. “I’m the general manager of a nightclub at the Beverly Highlander.”

Karen leaned forward, momentarily forgetting her animosity. “You run
Sins
?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “Have you heard of the place?”

“Are you kidding me?” Karen retorted. “Is it really true that people fuck in the johns all the time?”

Eric could only stare, clearly taken aback by his daughter’s appalling language.

Brooke eyed Karen coolly. “I think most of the stuff you hear is pretty much hype.”

“My friend, Spic, told me your DJ, Jericho D, is gay.”

“Would it make any difference if he was?”

Karen pretended to consider the question. “Kind of. Spic wants to screw him some day. I don’t think her fantasy includes old Jericho getting hard for the home team, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I don’t think your friend’s going to have much to worry about in a little while.”

“Why’s that?” Karen asked her.

“Jericho’s given notice,” Brooke told her. “He’s been signed up by
Reisen
, one of the top clubs in Vegas.”

“Too bad for Spic.” The whole conversation was beginning to bore Karen. “Can we order now?”

Eric ignored his daughter’s question. “There’s something Brooke and I need to discuss with you.”

“If you’re going to ask me to be a stupid flower girl or something, you can forget it. I’m too old and I’m not doing it.”

Eric cleared his throat nervously. “We were hoping you’d be a big sister.”

Karen eyed her father suspiciously. “To who?”

“To the baby Brooke and I are going to have.”

For almost a full minute, there was silence as Karen’s brain processed his announcement. Then came the explosion. “You got her
knocked up
?” she shouted in disgust, oblivious to the stares around her.

Brooke tried to explain, “Karen, you have it all wrong.”

“No, I think I definitely have it
right
,” Karen shot back angrily. “I don’t freaking believe you guys!”

“Dammit, Karen!” Eric gripped the sides of their table in an obvious attempt to keep his temper in check. “I want you to apologize to Brooke right now.”

“It’s okay, Eric—”

“—and they say kids screw up their lives!” Karen bolted from their booth, needing to escape before the waterworks started. “Fuck lunch. I’m outta here!”

Eric tried to block her path but Karen charged past him out of the restaurant. Jumping in her car, she tore down La Cienega, eager to put as much distance as she could between her and her father.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Before Brooke, her father had gone out with a string of big-breasted Playmate rejects, but none of them had lasted. This thing with Brooke was a whole new ballgame since marriage and a new kid changed everything. Once the stupid kid was born, her father would have absolutely shit-all time for her. She might as well pack her bags and head for fucking Siberia!

***

It was a little after four o’clock, unusual for her mother to be home so early. Karen watched from behind dark glasses as she slid open the sliding glass door before coming outside. In her late thirties, Eve Stanton still had the enviable figure of someone in her twenties as she gracefully walked across the lawn towards the pool. Karen flipped face down on the air mattress and pretended to ignore her.

“Hi.” When Karen didn’t respond, her mother bent down and lightly splashed her to get her attention.

Karen removed one of her ear buds and looked at her. “Hey.”

“When did you get home?”

“A while ago.” Karen flipped over onto her back again before re-inserting her ear bud.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Lunch with your dad today.”

“Figures, he’d call you,” Karen remarked bitterly. “Anyway, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Eve undid her jacket. “What did you think of Brooke?”

“Stupid question, Mom!”

“Why?”

Karen yanked out both of her ear buds this time and glared at her mother. “Do you really want to know what I thought about her? I thought she was amazing looking and that Dad’s robbing the fucking cradle!”

“Don’t swear,” Eve automatically admonished her. “Exactly how young is she?”

“How should I know?” Karen sat up, her full breasts straining against the confines of her bikini. “Like Caro’s age, or even younger.”

Eve swallowed hard.

“And do you know what the worst part of it is?” she continued indignantly. “Brooke’s freaking knocked up!”

“I see.”

Karen looked at her accusingly. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

She shrugged. “Your father already shared that piece of news with me when he called me earlier.”

“And?”

“And what?” asked Eve. “That I think your father’s ruining his life by marrying Brooke? That she’s looking for a rich meal ticket?” She shook her head helplessly. “I can’t say any of those things because I never even met the woman.”

“Thanks for the support,” Karen muttered miserably. “I knew you don’t give a shit.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then do something!”

“Like what?” Eve chose her words carefully. “Look, honey. Your dad’s making some choices which may not agree with you. They may even piss you off.”

“Gee, you think?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“But your dad’s got a right to live his life,” she continued firmly, “and if Brooke makes him happy, then there’s not much we can do about it.”

“What kind of crap is
that
?” Karen began paddling furiously towards the other end of the pool. “I swear, I just don’t frigging get you sometimes, Mom.”

“Well, what would you like me to say,” asked Eve, following her, “that he can’t marry her?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to say.” Karen got out and grabbed the beach towel lying on the patio table. “Tell Dad you made a shitty mistake, you won’t work so much, you actually give a crap about him and that you don’t want him to marry this Brooke chick.” There was a pregnant pause and when she spoke again, her words were barely audible. “And tell Dad to come home.”

“I’m sorry.” Eve looked at her somber reflection in the water. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”
 

“Because it’s not that simple anymore.”

“You’re full of shit, Mom!” Karen threw the towel back on the table. “All you care about is yourself and your stupid career.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why won’t you tell Dad to come home?”

“Because he’s having a baby with someone else!”

“So what?” she retorted. “They can get rid of it.”

“Come on, Karen.” Eve tried taking her daughter in her arms. “You’re not being reasonable.”

“And whose fault is that?” Karen bit out angrily.

“I don’t want to continue this discussion if you’re going to act like this.”

“Sure,” Karen taunted her, “avoid confrontation like you always do!” Karen stomped towards the house, pulling up short at the sight of her grandmother standing on the patio watching them. “Grams!” She gave Kate Stanton a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought take-out,” replied her grandmother, giving her a shrewd look, “and some moral support in case you needed it.”

Eve walked up to them slowly. “Thanks, Mom, but I think your moral support’s a little misplaced today.”

Karen glared at Eve before giving her grandmother a final peck on the cheek. “Grams, maybe
you
can talk some sense into Mom because she refuses to listen to me!” With that, she stormed into the house without a backward glance.

There had been no clap of thunder or other ominous sign to forewarn him of her sudden arrival on his doorstep, spouting little more than a litany of barely coherent gibberish.

“Trade for tit milk! Tit milk for April.”

“What is she saying, Señor?” his housekeeper asked, cowering just inside the doorway.

“How the bloody hell should I know?” Leo Bauer made no effort to mask his irritation at being called away from his dinner guests to deal with something he paid his housekeeper to handle.

“Maria trade,” the woman announced, “priteee picture.” The dirty hand hidden inside her pocket now thrust a worn photograph at him.

The name “Maria” made Leo’s blood run cold
. He furtively searched the derelict’s face for some modicum of her former beauty but there was nothing in her features to suggest she had any connection to the woman who had consumed his every conscious thought for most of his adult life.

“I call the police,” his housekeeper announced.

“No!” His voice was little more than a strangled command. “No police. I’ll deal with her.” Leo waited a beat as he struggled for composure. “Go tell my guests I’ll be with them momentarily.”

The housekeeper scurried off. Only then did he turn his attention back to the woman. With a trembling hand, he carefully took the proffered photograph from her. Reaching for the reading glasses in his breast pocket, Leo perched them onto his nose before looking at it closely. Despite the creases having worn deep grooves into the photograph, the image was unmistakable.

“Why did you come back?” he demanded hoarsely. “Why now?”

“Maria here!”

The gravity of those two coherent words shocked his brain. A multitude of possibilities for her reappearance came to mind but only one made sense. The photograph proved it.
Maria was coming back to him!
Her reappearance was divine providence in his darkest hour; a sign that everything would be all right in his world. Gut-wrenching need made him reach clumsily for her arm but she easily twisted out of his grasp. “Why are you acting like this?” Leo’s eyes were tormented. “I would never hurt you, you know that.”

Despite his reassurances, Maria backed away from him, clearly wary of his actions.

“I just want to talk to you.” This time Leo lunged at her but missed completely. “Maria – please!”

With a muffled cry, she ran from him, stumbling down the driveway. His first instinct was to run after her, but then Leo remembered his dinner guests. With unsteady fingers, he carefully folded the photograph and put it in his pocket, bleakly realizing that he had let Maria get away from him a third time, a mistake he vowed never to again repeat.