Shooting the Moon

CHAPTER TWO

LAUREN SAT in a plastic chair at the small, glass-fronted karate school where Brandon took lessons, enveloped in the unpleasant smell of mildew, perspiration and discarded tennis shoes. She stared at the card Harley Nelson had given her that morning. Judging from the logo embossed in fancy script below his name—“Burlingame Harley Davidson”—he was a motorcycle salesman.

How fitting, she thought, picturing him in his leather jacket, jeans and boots. It was probably the only kind of work he could get. He didn’t have a degree. He’d barely graduated from high school. And his occupation would certainly explain the expensive bike she’d seen in her driveway. Harley probably blew every dime he made on his two-wheeled transportation and couldn’t afford a car.

“Too bad you didn’t spend more time in the library,” she muttered, feeling vindicated for his less-than-flattering comments that morning. “I guess an education is a little more important than an excitement factor, huh?”

“Did you say something, Lauren?” Kara, Brandon’s classmate’s mother, had been sitting next to her for the past thirty minutes, looking for an opportunity to start a conversation. She was a nice woman, even if she did love the sound of her own voice, but Lauren wasn’t in the mood to listen to her today. Quickly averting her eyes, she mumbled something about talking to herself and retreated back into her own thoughts.

Should she let Harley meet Brandon or not? She’d asked herself that a hundred times over the past six hours, but she couldn’t come up with a good answer. Bottom line, she ran risks either way. If she let Harley see Brandon, it could snowball into something big and ugly and difficult. If she refused, it could snowball into something big and ugly and difficult.

She sighed, and saw Kara in her peripheral vision trying to catch her eye, but Lauren didn’t look up. She had to call Harley, had to say something, she decided, running her thumb over the embossing on his card. Otherwise he’d show up on her doorstep again and next time might not end so well.

If only she could get hold of her parents, learn their opinion. She’d left a message at their hotel in London, but she hadn’t heard from them and guessed they were on a side trip to Bath or the Cotswolds or someplace else. Which meant it could be another day or two before they knew she was trying to reach them.

She doubted Harley would wait that long. It was her impression that patience wasn’t one of his strong suits.

A round of keeyiis drew Lauren’s attention back to the karate class. Brandon stood in the front row facing the mirror. He smiled when he caught Lauren watching him, and Lauren’s heart twisted at the thought of seeing him drive off on the back of Harley’s motorcycle. She’d die first. He was such a wonderful boy—bright, healthy, talented.

Harley didn’t deserve him, she told herself, but even as the thought passed through her mind, she wondered if her damning judgment wasn’t a bit too harsh. He’d been eighteen when he’d gotten Audra pregnant. He’d made some pretty poor choices back then, but he wasn’t the first teenager to do so. What if he’d changed? Matured? Didn’t she owe it to Brandon to at least find out? He asked her so many questions about his father.

Slipping her phone out of her purse, she dialed the number for Harley’s cell, which he’d circled on his card.

When he answered, she thought she heard rap music in the background, as well as other voices. Where was he spending his time? At a pool hall?

“It’s Lauren Worthington,” she said without preamble.

“Hi.”

She’d expected him to start pressing her immediately, but he didn’t. He waited for her to speak, only she didn’t know how to get things started.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So what have you decided?”

“I haven’t. Not yet,” she admitted. “I was hoping I could talk to you first.”

“When?”

Lauren took a deep breath. Was she crazy to be doing this? “Tonight?”

“Okay. At your place?”

“No, somewhere neutral.”

“A restaurant?”

“That’s fine.”

“You name the place.”

“There’s a sushi bar not far from the theaters downtown. Tokyo House. Do you know it?”

“I think so. What time?”

Lauren checked her watch. It was nearly five now, and she still needed to make dinner for Brandon and arrange for a baby-sitter. “Seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said, but in truth she hoped he wouldn’t come. It would make things infinitely easier for her if he just disappeared. But how realistic was that?

“Anything else?” he asked.

“No. See you at seven.” She hit the end button and finally glanced up to see Kara watching her eagerly.

“Are you thinking about buying a Harley Davidson?” she asked, gazing at the business card. “My husband owned one once. It was a beautiful bike. A little scary, though. He used to take me on weekend trips, when the weather was warm enough. Wind gets pretty cold, you know. That’s why it makes sense for a biker to wear leather. So I went out and bought us complete matching outfits, in red. And we joined a club. It was a lot of fun, really.” A far-off look came over her face. “I wonder if I can still fit into those pants. I haven’t tried them on for ages. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to dig them out of storage and see, huh?”

Lauren tried to break in long enough to say that she had no intention of ever owning a Harley, that motorcycles frightened her immensely, but Kara didn’t seem to be looking for an answer. She was telling Lauren about a vacation she and her husband once enjoyed where they almost took the Harley but decided, at the last minute, to take the Mercedes instead, which turned out to be a good choice because it was one of the hottest summers on record, and they were going to the Grand Canyon, and just think about all that dust and heat out on a bike….

Lauren yawned discreetly behind her hand and tried to follow the story well enough to nod or exclaim in all the right places, but her mind kept drifting back to Brandon and Harley and whether or not tonight would tell her what she wanted to know.

LAUREN HAD CALLED, which was more than Harley had expected her to do. He wouldn’t have given up regardless, but her cooperation made things a little easier. Maybe they could reach an agreement. Maybe he could get her to see reason. Lauren wasn’t the boy’s mother, after all. As much as she’d done for him—and Harley was grateful—she was still only his aunt, and she had her own life to live. She was young, for crying out loud. And attractive. She needed to get out, meet someone, have children of her own.

And let Brandon go with his father. After ten years, Harley felt it was his turn.

If only he could convince her of that.

“Tank, I’m out of here,” he called from the living room. His friend was in the kitchen getting some juice for Lucy. They’d ordered a pizza and spent the afternoon watching a golf classic on television while reminiscing about the past, but Harley had to get going if he didn’t want to be late for Lauren Worthington.

“Hey, you comin’ back?” Tank asked, poking his head around the corner. “You can stay here, you know. It’s just me and Lucy tonight, and just me most other times. I got an extra room and everything.”

Harley didn’t know exactly what his plans were. He’d checked into the Holiday Inn last night, but he’d brought only a few changes of clothing and had no idea how long he’d end up being in town. It all depended on what happened with Lauren tonight.

“My stuff’s at the hotel. I’ll probably just—”

“Don’t stay at a hotel. Come back here,” Tank interrupted.

Lucy slipped around the corner to smile at him, and Harley smiled back, thinking he’d probably enjoy the company. “All right,” he said. “You got an extra key? I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

“I’ll put one under the mat.”

“Sounds good. Later.”

Harley jogged down the steps and straddled the seat of his bike before realizing he didn’t have his helmet. Lucy had been playing with it earlier. He considered going back to the apartment to see what she’d done with it but decided not to waste the few minutes that would take. He didn’t want to miss Lauren, give her any excuse to deny him the chance to see Brandon. Besides, he’d already ridden without a helmet once today. Another fifteen minutes wasn’t going to matter.

Not bothering to zip his jacket, he raised the kickstand and cruised out of the lot. He could have gone to the hotel, shaved, cleaned up, changed clothes, but to a certain extent, he refused to meet Lauren’s expectations of a stand-up guy, refused to conform to the clean-cut, preppy type she most likely admired. Which, if he really thought about it, probably had something to do with the reason he’d chosen to drive his motorcycle to Portland. But he didn’t want to think about it, because then he’d have to face the other realities of his past, too.

The restaurant was coming up on his right. Though the lot was nearly filled to capacity, Harley easily spotted Lauren Worthington standing next to a pearl-colored, upper-model Lexus parked close to the entrance. Long dark hair pulled back, she wore a black tank sweater, black pants that narrowed and hit just above the ankle, and black-leather shoes with a slight heel. She looked slender, elegant—and rich.

The gangly young girl who’d worn braces and glasses thick enough to magnify her eyes had certainly grown up. But Harley wasn’t sure he approved. Now Lauren looked like the kind of woman who frequented a tennis club, carried a Louis Vuitton handbag and hurried away from her cappuccino so she wouldn’t miss her manicure appointment. In short, she’d turned into her mother.

She waved to let him know she was there. He snapped on his signal, but before he could drive into the lot, the flashing lights of a police car came up from behind.

Shit, not me, he thought, and pulled to the side of the road, hoping the cruiser would continue past him.

When it parked behind him, he knew his luck had run out. Damn! Five minutes more and he would’ve been safely ensconced in a booth with Lauren, deciding his son’s future. Instead, she was standing on the curb, watching him get stopped by the police, and it wasn’t hard to make out the look of “just as I’d expect” on her face.

Forget it. It’s just a traffic ticket. Even the great Worthingtons must get a traffic ticket now and then.

A policeman approached wearing the usual khaki-colored uniform and an Officer Denny name tag. He was carrying a gun and pepper spray on his belt, but he had a boyish face that made him look as if he could still be in high school. “Hello, sir,” he said, his expression a study in earnestness. “Are you aware that we have helmet laws in this state?”

In this state? Evidently Officer Denny had already noted Harley’s California plate, and being an out-of-state resident never helped when dealing with local law enforcement. Harley knew at that moment that he probably wasn’t going to get off with a warning. He just hoped Denny would finish with him before Lauren got it in her head to leave. “Most states have helmet laws now,” he replied.

“Then you know you should be wearing one.”

“I’m aware of that, yes.”

“Do you own a helmet, sir?”

Did it matter? He didn’t have it with him, so what was the point? “Yeah.”

“Where is it now?”

Harley didn’t know exactly where his helmet was. He didn’t care. He just wanted to talk to Lauren. “It’s at my friend’s house.” Shifting, he lowered his voice. “Listen, Officer, I don’t mean to be rude, but could we skip the lecture and cut right to the chase? I realize I’m guilty of a traffic violation. I’ll pay the fine. But I’m in a big hurry. Is there any chance you could just write me up and be on your way?”

“A helmet could save your life,” Denny continued, obviously reluctant to let Harley interrupt him before he’d finished his spiel.

“I know. It’s there to protect me from myself. Isn’t it grand that others care so much about my safety? Too bad their concern is going to cost me a hundred bucks, but those are the breaks. Can I have my ticket now?”

Denny’s brows knitted as though Harley’s briskness had offended him. “Maybe you should just relax and let me see your license and registration,” he said, his voice taking on a sulky tone.

Harley showed him the registration he kept in his saddlebags. Then he fished his license out of his wallet and waited while Denny carried it back to his cruiser.

It’ll all be over in a minute, he told himself, then waved to Lauren to let her know he was coming. But when Officer Denny returned, he wasn’t writing on any clipboard. He was fingering his holstered gun and wearing a worried expression.

“Looks like I’m going to have to place you under arrest,” he said.

LAUREN COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Harley was being taken away right before her eyes. He hadn’t been in town a day, and he was already in trouble with the police! What had he done? Robbed a liquor store? Run down a pedestrian? Sold drugs to local school kids?

Was that how Audra had gotten started on crack?

The thought that Harley might be responsible for ruining her sister in more ways than one caused the smoldering resentment Lauren felt toward him to deepen. What had she been thinking, setting up a meeting with him in the first place? Her father had always said he was no good—nothing but a two-bit punk—and obviously Harley hadn’t changed. Witnessing his arrest was proof positive.

She watched the officer shepherd Harley toward his car, noted Harley’s angry strides, his jerky movements, the intensity on his face when he spoke, and wished she could hear what was being said. But she didn’t want to get that close. She’d already learned everything she needed to know, hadn’t she? It was best to keep her distance—a decision she deemed wise when the officer tried to cuff him and Harley suddenly whirled as though he might throw a punch.

“Don’t do it, it’ll only make things worse,” she muttered, clenching one hand around her car keys. Harley couldn’t hear her, of course. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. He wasn’t the type to take advice from her or anyone else.

Besides, she wanted him to be arrested, didn’t she? It would buy her some time.

The officer’s hand went to his gun as though he was threatening to use it, and Lauren held her breath. “Just cooperate,” she said, and finally Harley allowed the cuffs and was put in the backseat.

The officer leaned against the hood of the car, periodically talking into his radio until a tow truck came to impound Harley’s bike. Then he got behind the wheel and drove away, and the last thing Lauren saw was Harley staring back at her through the window, jaw clenched, eyes bright with fury and the red-and-blue lights of the patrol car still swirling above him.

What kind of fool was she? Lauren asked herself when they were gone at last. She’d been afraid she was judging Harley too harshly—the boy who’d gotten her sister pregnant and run out on her! As if there could be a judgment too harsh for someone like that!

Her father was right. She was justified in keeping Harley as far away from Brandon as possible.

Feeling almost giddy with relief, Lauren took her cell phone from her purse and called her best friend, Kimberly. Everything was going to be okay. Anyone with a record wouldn’t stand a chance against her father and his lawyers.

“Lauren, where are you?” Kim asked as soon as she’d said hello. “I just called your house and the baby-sitter said you’d left on a dinner date. What happened? I thought we were going dancing tonight.”

Oh, jeez. Lauren had been so worried about Harley and Brandon, she’d completely forgotten about their plans to go dancing. And Kimberly really counted on getting out. After college she’d married a guy who’d been more interested in ogling the models in Victoria Secret catalogues than in giving Kimberly any attention. They’d remained childless, divorced six years later, and Kimberly had returned to Portland three months ago. She was living with her parents and looking for an accounting job, but she wanted desperately to get married again. “I’m sorry, Kim. I feel terrible. I should’ve remembered to call, but something pretty monumental came up.”

“What? Have you met someone new?”

“Even more monumental than that. Remember Harley?”

“Brandon’s father?”

“Yeah. He’s back in town. He showed up on my doorstep this morning.”

There was a long pause, then, “You’re kidding me.”

“No. He was supposed to meet me for dinner tonight so we could talk, but he got himself arrested just as he was turning in to the restaurant. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“What difference does it make? He’s not a good person. That’s all I need to know.”

“We already knew he wasn’t a good person. A good person doesn’t get a girl pregnant and run out on her. But aren’t you a little curious about what he did wrong this time?”

Now that the first blush of anger had subsided, Lauren realized she was more than a little curious. Yet she hadn’t felt compelled to get involved. She still wanted to go on with her life as if Harley had never dropped back into it.

“No,” she lied. “I think I should just take it as a sign to stay away. Besides, if I need to know, I can always find out. Chief Wilson is a good friend of my dad’s.”

“Great! Tell me as soon as you call him.”

Lauren frowned and finally made her way back to her car, opened the door and sank into her seat behind the wheel. “Why are you assuming I’m going to call him? I said I could call him.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to here? We’ve been best friends since first grade. There’s no way someone like you is capable of letting something like this go.”

Lauren opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when Kimberly added, “Besides, I’m dying to know. Do you want me to call down there for you?”

“No, I’ll do it,” she said, giving in to the inevitable. Kimberly was right. No way was she going to be able to ignore this. Especially because she had no guarantee that Harley wouldn’t be back on her doorstep tomorrow morning.

“So, why were you and Harley getting together, anyway?” Kimberly asked. “Does he know about Audra?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure how he heard, but he knows.”

“Does he want a relationship with Brandon?”

“I think so. He wants to see him, at any rate.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Keep Brandon as far away as possible. I may need you to take him for a few days. Can you do that?”

“Sure. Anything. You know he likes it here.”

Lauren bit her bottom lip and ran her hand over the smooth finish of the steering wheel, hating the thought of disrupting her nephew’s life. But she had to do something until her parents returned, until she at least heard from them, right? What if Harley got out of jail and kidnapped Brandon? They might never be able to find him again.

That possibility terrified Lauren, and she massaged her temples in worry. “He loves your dog,” she said, hoping to bolster her confidence that she was doing the right thing.

“My dog? What am I, chopped liver?” Kimberly demanded.

Lauren laughed for the first time since she’d seen Harley coming toward the restaurant on that damned motorcycle. “No, of course not. I was just thinking aloud, about all the benefits of having him stay with you.”

“He’ll be fine, Lauren. You know I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know.”

“Where are you now?”

Lauren twisted in her seat to glance up at the Tokyo House sign that lit the entire front of the building. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she loved the food at this place, but dinner was the last thing on her mind. “Downtown.”

“When are you bringing Brandon over?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how long Harley’s in jail, if he’s even going to jail. The fact that they cuffed him makes me think he might be there for a few days, but maybe they just took him in for questioning or something.”