Shooting the Moon

CHAPTER FOUR

WHAT A NIGHT! Lauren groaned as she trained one bleary eye on her alarm clock. It was five in the morning. She’d left the restaurant at eleven and tossed and turned until three. Then, when she finally fell asleep, she’d dreamed about Harley snatching Brandon from her. She could still see the triumphant grin he’d worn when he ripped the boy from her grasp, tossed him onto the back of his bike and roared away. It was a disturbing image that conflicted with the Harley she’d met for dinner last night, but at this hour, the sinister Harley seemed more real than not.

Shoving a hand through her tangled hair, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off again. Don’t think about it, she told herself. She had another hour before she was scheduled to pick Brandon up from Kimberly’s so she could get him ready for school, but she was too worried to relax. She’d promised to introduce Brandon to his father today. Would she be letting the wolf in the door?

The telephone rang, the noise startling and loud in the silent house.

She grabbed the receiver and cleared her throat before saying hello, then sagged in relief when she heard her father on the other end of the line. He’d gotten her messages. Thank heaven!

“Dad, I’m so glad to hear from you,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days. Where have you and Mom been?”

“We took the train to Paris for the weekend. Just got back,” he said. “What’s wrong? The front desk here at the hotel said it was urgent. Is Brandon okay?”

Lauren sat up, cross-legged, and kneaded her forehead. She’d wanted to speak to her father ever since Harley had appeared, but now that she had Quentin on the phone, she was almost afraid to tell him what was going on. She knew he wasn’t going to like the fact that Harley had popped back into their lives, and hated to admit that she wasn’t maintaining a stronger defense against him. “Brandon’s fine, Dad, don’t worry. Everything’s fine—for the most part.” At least right now. “It’s just that…well, Harley’s back. He came here Saturday morning.”

“What?”

Flinching from the blast of her father’s voice, Lauren held the phone away from her ear. “It’s true,” she said when it was safe to move the handset closer.

“What do you mean he’s back? Has he moved to town?”

“What’s happened? What is it?” she heard her mother ask in the background.

“No. He lives in California,” Lauren said. “He learned about Audra and came to see Brandon.”

“Did you let him in?”

An ominous silence followed this question, one that made Lauren glad she could answer honestly when she said no. She didn’t add, “not yet.”

“Good for you, honey,” he said. “Harley Nelson has no business with us. That boy’s nothing but trouble.”

That boy? Harley wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a man now, and a man to be reckoned with, if her instincts could be trusted.

“Harley Nelson’s back?” her mother cried.

“You tell him to go back to whatever rock he crawled out from under,” her father said. “I won’t let him say two words to Brandon.”

The relief Lauren had experienced when she’d first heard her father’s voice was quickly fading. “Audra’s gone now, Dad,” she said as he finally quieted her mother with a terse, “Just a minute, Marilee, I can’t hear a thing she’s saying with you squawking in my ear.”

“What did you say?” he demanded, returning to the conversation.

“I said Audra’s gone now.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, he is Brandon’s father, his only living parent.”

“I don’t care if he’s the man on the moon—Marilee, would you please shut up and let me talk?—Audra’s dead because of him. Besides, we’re all the family Brandon needs.”

“We’re all he’s ever known,” her mother put in.

“That might be true,” Lauren said. “But what if Harley takes us to court? You realize he could win complete custody. We stand to lose Brandon altogether.”

At last, a moment of silence. “What’s he like now?” Quentin asked, his voice less emotional and more calculating.

Lauren pictured the tall, handsome spectacle that was Harley Nelson and tried not to feel so much as a flicker of admiration, but something fluttered in her stomach all the same. “He’s taller and…a little broader,” she said to avoid saying anything more flattering. She could have added that he was confident, almost cocky, and very real, very appealing—far different from any of the stuffed shirts she’d dated. But she didn’t. “He still drives a motorcycle,” she said so her description wouldn’t sound quite so sketchy.

Fortunately her father didn’t push her for any more details. “See?” he responded immediately. “He hasn’t changed. Bad seeds rarely do. Probably doesn’t have a pot to piss in. Don’t worry, Lauren, there’s nothing a man like that can do to us or Brandon.”

So they had Harley outgunned as far as resources went. Did that justify denying him the opportunity to meet his own son? What about the moral side of the dilemma? And what about Brandon’s wishes? If he were to find out his father was in town, surely he’d want to see him. “But if Harley sincerely regrets what he did, then it would only be right to—”

“Don’t tell me what’s right,” her father snapped. “He couldn’t regret what happened any more than I do. That son of a bitch cost me my little girl,” he said, his voice growing hoarse with emotion.

Audra. Lauren felt the same sense of loss and regret she knew her father felt, but she had to ask herself how much of the situation ten years ago had been Audra’s fault? And how much had been Harley’s? Had she told him she was on the pill, as he claimed? If so, she certainly deserved a larger portion of the responsibility than the Worthingtons had ever allotted to her before. But the real question was whether or not Audra would’ve alienated her family and sunk into drug abuse without Harley starting her down the wrong road and abandoning her.

That was tough to say. Remembering the way her sister had behaved at school, flitting from one guy to the next, partying with the best of them and rebelling against any kind of authority, Lauren had difficulty placing all the blame in Harley’s lap. “She was eighteen, Dad.”

“So? What are you saying?”

That she was old enough to understand the consequences of her actions. Lauren had known better than to follow in Audra’s footsteps, even at the tender age of seventeen. “She was almost an adult.”

“How can you say that? Audra was just an innocent young girl when she met Harley.”

“He was the same age.”

“Maybe. But he was hardly innocent. And I tried to tell him to leave her alone. I told him what was going to happen. If only the little bastard had listened. Don’t you remember me catching them in the front yard in the middle of the night, both of them nearly falling-down drunk? I told him to stay away from her then. I knew it was just a matter of time before he ruined her life, and I was right.”

Lauren heard her mother warning Quentin to watch his blood pressure, but he seemed to pay no more attention to that than anything else Marilee said.

“He’s cost us enough already, Lauren. You know that,” he muttered.

“What about Brandon? What about what he might want?”

“Lauren, Brandon’s not even ten. He doesn’t know what’s best, and it wouldn’t be fair to involve him.”

“Shouldn’t we at least tell him that his father’s in town? See if—”

“Why? What good would it do?” he broke in. “If you bring Brandon into this, you’ll only upset him.”

Lauren didn’t say anything. She hated confrontations and avoided them whenever possible, especially with her father. But somehow it felt dishonest not to tell Brandon that his father had some interest in knowing him.

“Lauren?” her father said when she didn’t speak.

“I’m here.”

“I love Brandon, honey. You know how much.”

Lauren couldn’t help responding to the softening in his voice. “I don’t doubt that.”

“If Audra had listened to me in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. She’d still be with us. But she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let me do what I knew was best for her.”

Was Lauren making the same mistake? Was she undermining her father when she should be supporting him? The thought that she might be doing just that seemed to shed new light on everything.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I won’t mention Harley to Brandon, and I’ll tell Harley to stay away. But what do I do if he won’t take no for an answer? What if he won’t leave us alone?”

“Then we’ll get a restraining order against him until this can go to court. But don’t worry. It won’t get that far. The boy I remember from ten years ago wasn’t the kind to stick around long enough to fight for anything. Do you think things are any different now?”

Yes! She thought things were significantly different. Harley wasn’t a man who’d allow himself to be bullied or intimidated or denied. Not by Quentin Worthington or his fortune. How Lauren knew that, she couldn’t exactly say. It had something to do with Harley’s bearing and demeanor. At the same time, it was only a hunch and she could be wrong, so she hesitated to state her opinion too strongly.

“He’s a little more determined than he used to be,” she said.

“Then we’ll be just as determined. He’s not going to threaten my family’s well-being a second time.”

“Right. I understand.”

“Where is he now?”

“I believe he’s staying with an old friend of his.” In fact, she knew he was. He’d said so last night. He’d even given her the number.

“Well, if he comes around again, you send him packing. If he won’t leave, call the police.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, but her heart sank as she contemplated facing Harley and telling him she’d changed her mind. She felt sorry for him, for what he’d lost, even if it was largely due to his own poor judgment.

“I wish we were there to help you. Do you think your mom and I should come home?”

Deep down Lauren wished they would. She wanted Quentin to deal with the situation so she wouldn’t have to. Let him sift the rights from the wrongs, make the tough decisions—and accept the responsibility.

What a cop-out, she thought, cringing at her cowardice. She was nearly thirty years old. It was time she took charge instead of expecting her parents to handle everything.

“Don’t cut your trip short yet,” she said. “Let’s wait and see how things go. Maybe after I talk to him he’ll just…go home.” Yeah, right!

“Okay. But promise you’ll call us after you talk to him.”

“I will.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“Here, your mother wants to say hello.”

HARLEY SAT on the edge of a bed consisting of two mattresses and a cheap set of rails in Tank’s spare room, waiting anxiously for the sun to rise. He was surrounded by boxes filled with who knew what—leftovers from Tank’s marriage, probably, belongings that held too many memories to unpack—staring at empty walls and a dirty window with a broken blind. But he could’ve been sitting behind home plate at the World Series and it wouldn’t have made any difference. He would still have been thinking of Brandon.

He was going to meet his son today. Harley had envisioned coming face to face with him hundreds, even thousands of times, but he’d never anticipated feeling so…apprehensive. It might’ve been different if Brandon was younger and less likely to be critical. Toddlers didn’t care what a parent was like. They accepted whatever love they were offered. But a nine-year-old boy…

Harley stretched his neck, then squeezed the muscles in his left shoulder, wishing he could iron out a few of the knots. A nine-year-old boy would already know how to play ball and read and ride a bike. He’d have his own taste in clothes and his own opinions on what was cool and whether or not he might be interested in getting to know the man who’d fathered him.

What if Brandon didn’t want to be bothered? What if he didn’t want Harley to disturb his picture-perfect life with the Worthingtons?

He already has everything. He doesn’t need you.

“You up, man?” Tank stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a muscle shirt and a pair of boxers, his voice dispelling the echo of Lauren’s words in Harley’s head.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to stretch the kinks out of his neck again.

His friend yawned, then eyed the blankets that were still folded rather haphazardly behind Harley. “Didn’t you go to bed?”

After his meeting with Lauren, Harley had stopped by the Holiday Inn to pack his things and check out. Then he’d let himself into Tank’s apartment just after midnight, where he’d spent several hours on his laptop, seeing how sales were going at Burlingame Harley Davidson and answering e-mails sent to him by Joe Randall, his manager. He’d tried to sleep afterward but ended up pacing instead, and thinking about Brandon.

“I had too much on my mind. What are you doing up so early?”

“You kidding? I pour concrete for a living. I get up this early as a rule. Otherwise, I’m working late in the afternoon and it gets too damned hot. How’d it go with Lauren last night?”

“Good. Better than I expected.” He certainly hadn’t anticipated finding Audra’s little sister, or any member of Audra’s family, the least bit likeable. They lived in an expensive house, drove fancy cars, spent money as though it were water and had absolutely no idea what it was like to go without. Understanding and acceptance were concepts as unfamiliar to them as the idea of mowing their own lawn or painting their own house. But there was something about Lauren that made Harley wonder if she was really as bad as he’d assumed. She’d been decent last night. She’d allowed him to break through her icy reserve and reach what he hoped was her heart—provided she really had one.

“She gonna let you see Brandon?” Tank asked.

“Yeah, today as a matter of fact.”

“You nervous?”

“No,” Harley said, even though his heart raced at the prospect of what lay in store. God, he was scared. How did he introduce himself to his own child? Pick up in the middle of Brandon’s life and make a meaningful contribution?

“I’m supposed to go over there for dinner,” he explained. “Lauren suggested it might seem more natural if I came to the house and was treated like any other guest. She thinks it’ll help maintain Brandon’s emotional stability if we’re friendly and supportive of each other.”

Tank arched an eyebrow at him. “She’s willing to be supportive of you?”

“Go figure,” Harley said. “A sympathetic Worthington. It’s a contradiction in terms, isn’t it?”

“Does that mean she’s gonna tell Brandon who you are?”

“Yep. Said she’s always been honest with him and doesn’t want to erode the trust she’s established between them by lying to him now.”

“Sounds like something she’d say. I told you she was a straight arrow.”

“I prefer it this way, too. No games, no secrets.”

A hint of a smile lit Tank’s face. “Damien called while you were gone last night.”

“Your brother? What for?”

“Just to badger me some more about why we wanted Lauren’s number.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, I said I had a friend who was looking for a good lay.” Tank’s smile turned into a devilish grin. “He nearly had a coronary. I love to mess with that guy’s head.”

“He want her back?” Harley asked.

Tank scratched his belly. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Why? What’s so appealing about her?”

“Didn’t you look at her, man? She’s gorgeous!”

“Her sister was even prettier, but there’s plenty of pretty women out there who are less spoiled.”

“You’re assuming Lauren is just like Audra used to be,” Tank said. “She’s not.”

“She can’t be that different,” Harley responded. “She’s cut from the same cloth. She has the same asshole for a father, the same nervous Nellie for a mother, and she had the same snobbish upbringing. She still lives in the same damned fortress, for Pete’s sake! So tell Damien to take it from me and stay the hell away from Lauren and anyone else even distantly related to her.”

Tank anchored his fingers above the lintel and let it support most of his weight. “Yeah, well, I think she’s pretty much made that decision for him. He’s tried to get her back, and she won’t budge. I just wish he’d quit moonin’ over her. Watching him wallow in misery is so damned annoying, you know? What does he think, no one else has ever gone through a break-up?”

Harley gazed at the boxes cluttering the floor and knew Tank had done his share of hurting. “You seeing anyone now?” he asked.

“Damien set me up on a blind date with one of his paralegals a couple months ago. Woman by the name of Rhonda. He only did it because she was crazy about him and he wanted to distract her, but it worked. She doesn’t call him anymore, and we catch a movie together every once in a while. What about you?”

“My business is my lover.”

“Sex life’s that good, huh?”

Harley shrugged. “I’m busy. When I get home at night, I’m exhausted, too tired to miss sex or anything else a woman has to offer.”

Skepticism etched a disbelieving frown on Tank’s face. “No way. I don’t believe you’ve changed that much.”

Harley couldn’t help laughing. Tank was right, up to a point. He missed having a robust sex life, but he craved having someone who was emotionally significant to him far more. The older he got, the more convinced he became that life wasn’t just about financial success or physical gratification. But he’d left his heart in Portland with an unborn baby when he moved to California ten years ago, and even though he’d had a few superficial relationships since then, no one had ever been able to fill the void. “Maybe your brother knows another female paralegal he can set me up with,” he joked.

“I’ll ask him,” Tank promised. “Just be forewarned. If he sets you up with anyone like Rhonda, she’ll be pudgy, pasty, too bold and emotionally starved.”

“God, Tank, I thought you liked her!”

“I do. I’m desperate, so the relationship works for me. But that’s hardly the kind of woman I see you with.” He gave up hanging on the lintel and started down the hall, the floor creaking in protest. “Gotta run. The whole crew’ll be waiting for me. Are you comin’ back tonight?”

“Yeah. That okay?” Harley called after him.

“Sure. Stay as long as you like.” The creaking stopped as Tank paused in the hall. “What are you gonna do before your dinner with Lauren and Brandon? You want to make a few extra bucks and come out on the job with me?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to get my hair cut and buy some new clothes.”

“What’s wrong with the haircut and clothes you got now?”

“Nothing. I just need to look…I don’t know, more fatherly, I guess.”

There was a pause and for a moment, Harley thought Tank had disappeared silently into his room. But then he spoke. “Can I give you a piece of advice, Harley?”

Advice? From Tank? “Shoot.”

“Clothes and hair don’t matter to kids, man. Just be yourself.”

The floor started creaking again, a door closed and the shower went on.

Harley laced his fingers behind his head and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Just be yourself. Sounded easy. Made sense. But his “self” hadn’t been good enough for Audra, and he was afraid he’d run into the same problem again, this time with Brandon. Especially if Quentin Worthington had poisoned his son against him.

He doesn’t need you.

“Maybe not,” Harley conceded, “but I need him.”

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