Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
“Hold still,” I told Zach as he tried to wriggle out of his pants while I hiked them over his Pull-Up.
“No pants!” he screeched. He’d been in a foul mood all day since Delia had decided that she was going to start her own school and Zach would be her pupil. She’d spent hours trying to force him to keep his clothes on and learn to write the alphabet. Zach had rebelled by streaking through the house, shredding her notepad, and throwing her crayons in the toilet.
“I don’t like wearing pants either, buddy, but Daddy’s going to be here any minute to pick you up. If you keep your clothes on like a good boy, maybe he’ll take you someplace fun for dinner.”
Zach’s tiny mouth pursed, holding stubbornly to the promise of a tantrum as I fed his feet into his overalls. The quiet was nothing more than a temporary victory. The rest of the evening would hinge on a game of toddler roulette; he was either going to lose it the minute I put him in his car seat or he’d conk out in the truck, sleep the whole way to Steven’s house, and then remain awake for the rest of the night.
“Delia!” I called up the stairs as I wrestled him into his coat. “Are you ready to go?”
She thumped down the steps wearing a plaid romper and a pout that was giving off teen-angst-grunge-band vibes. “I want to wear my Barbie pants.”
“Those aren’t pants, they’re pajamas.”
“So?”
“You can’t wear pajamas out to dinner. You can put them on when you get to Daddy’s house.”
The doorbell rang. I passed Delia her coat, hoping Zach didn’t manage to strip himself naked while my back was turned as I answered the door.
“Whoa!” Javi said, dodging a flying sneaker as he came inside. I turned in time to see Zach strip off his other one, the lights in their soles blinking as he tossed it over his head and sprinted behind the couch. I pinched the bridge of my nose as a pair of overalls flew over the back of the sofa and landed on the floor. Zach darted out of his hiding place and streaked past both of us, his bare butt on full display. His turtleneck was stuck around his head, the empty arms flapping behind him as he tore wildly through the house. I caught him around the waist before he could run face-first into the wall.
“Vero!” I called out. “Javi’s here!”
She was still putting in her earrings as she came down the stairs. “Naked time?”
Javi’s brows shot up. “Absolutely.”
She rolled her eyes as he kissed her on the cheek. “I was talking about the kids.”
Zach wailed and attempted to rip off the rest of his shirt. There was a familiar rap on the door. Steven cracked it open and peeped inside. “Everyone ready to go?”
“Almost,” I said, struggling to get Zach back into his Pull-Up.
Vero handed her purse to Javi. “Hold this.”
Steven and Javi watched with matching expressions of fascination and horror as Vero and I re-dressed my screaming toddler in a rehearsed coordinated effort in which one of us held him in a bear hug while the other worked him back into his clothes. I slung him over my hip when we finished. He writhed for a moment before finally giving up, leaving a trail of tears and snot on my shirt as he collapsed against my shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Steven asked me.
“The boot camp didn’t work. We’re back to Pull-Ups, but Zach refuses to keep his clothes on. Everything I’ve read says it’s just a phase.”
“How long will it last?”
Vero gave Steven a pointed look. “I hear some children never grow out of it.”
I passed Zach to his father before he could flip her off. “Let’s go,” I said, putting the straps of the diaper bag over Steven’s free shoulder. I gave each of the kids a kiss. “Have a fun weekend. Be good for your dad.”
“Better hurry,” Vero told Steven when Zach started squirming. “It’s only a matter of time before Mount Vesuvius erupts.”
“We’re definitely going to the pharmacy for condoms on the way home,” Javi said to Vero.
“What’s a condom?” Delia asked her father as he shooed her out the door.
The house fell blissfully quiet once the children were gone. The only sound was the game show Mrs. Haggerty was watching on the TV in the next room.
“Who’s that?” Javi asked, tipping his head toward the sofa.
“A displaced neighbor,” I said before Vero could supply an adjective of her own. “Her heat’s not working and she needed a place to stay.”
Javi leaned down to give Vero a proper kiss hello. She smiled as his raven-black hair fell over both of their eyes. The plastic ring on the fourth finger of his left hand caught in the strands as he raked them back, and he gently pried it free. He’d acquired it during their drunken late-night trip to a cheesy hotel wedding chapel in Atlantic City. Judging by how often he’d been showing up here lately, I didn’t imagine he’d be taking it off anytime soon.
The purple glow-in-the-dark bat ring was barely visible under the layer of glittery violet spray paint on his fingers, suggesting he’d come straight from Vero’s cousin’s garage. Javi did salvage and bodywork in exchange for free rent and a place to sleep on Ramón’s sofa, and since Vero’s cousin and Javi had been best friends since elementary school, the arrangement had been working out fine. That is, until Javi had told Ramón that he and Vero had (sort of) gotten married. Javi’s cheek still carried the ghost of a bruise.
Vero caught his hand and smirked. “That’s a pretty bold choice,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the purple paint on his knuckles.
“Tell me about it,” Javi said irritably. “I told Ramón’s customer the same thing when he picked out the color. I didn’t even finish spraying the front end of his truck before the asshole changed his mind. Now I’ve got an open bucket of Eggplant Ecstasy sitting on a shelf in the garage.”
Vero laughed. “You’d better go wash that mess off your hands before you take me out to dinner.”
“I was kind of hoping we could stay in.” He dangled a set of keys between them.
“What’s this?” she asked, snatching them from his fingers.
“You know that storage room over your cousin’s garage? I talked your cousin into renting it out to me. It’s not a storage room anymore.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Want to help me move in?”
“Do I have to carry anything?” she asked.
“Only the bed and whatever we pick up for dinner.”
“I’ll get my things.” Vero turned and hightailed it up the stairs. Two minutes later, she shuffled back down with her overnight bag slung over one shoulder. She turned to me as she dragged her boyfriend out of the house by way of the garage. “Text me when the old bat is out of here. You can sleep in my room. Don’t let her snoop,” she said, slamming the door behind them.
I pulled back the curtain in the foyer, watching through the window as Javi’s Camaro pulled out of the driveway. Vero’s Charger rolled out behind him, and I sighed, wishing I had the house to myself.
Mrs. Haggerty was staring out the living room window, ignoring whatever game show was playing on the TV when I came in to join her. She was unusually quiet, maybe a little melancholic. I wondered if she was watching her house, waiting for her porch light to turn on, or if she was hoping her grandson would come back and pick her up.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us for dinner,” I said over the television. “I have some leftover meatloaf if you’d like something to eat.”
She didn’t bother to acknowledge me.
“Suit yourself,” I said, turning back to the kitchen. I had been caring for two cranky children all day. I had no plans to dress, change, coddle, or feed anybody else.
“Children need discipline. And rules.” Mrs. Haggerty’s stern tone made me pause at the threshold. I turned around slowly, biting my tongue as she went on. “When I was your age, children knew what was expected of them. They knew the consequences. If you let those kids think they’re in charge, they’ll have no reason to listen to you.”
My doorbell rang and I was grateful for the excuse to discontinue the conversation. Mrs. Haggerty was the last person I would go to for parenting advice.
I opened the front door to find Cam standing on my porch. His close-cropped hair was just beginning to grow out, the soft brown edges peeking from under his beanie.
“Hey, Mrs. D,” he said, grinning like a fool.
I held the door open for him. Any company was better than being alone in the house with a glowering Mrs. Haggerty. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I was just in the neighborhood.” Cam was unusually chipper for an eighteen-year-old high school dropout who lived with his grandmother and had recently quit being gainfully employed as a hacker for the Russian mob. I had first met Cameron four months ago, when I’d hired him to do some online sleuthing for me on the dark web. I’d been attempting to suss out the identity of a contract killer who was soliciting clients through a popular local women’s forum. It was in part thanks to Cam that Vero and I had been able to thwart the killer and shut the forum down. Call me crazy, but despite Cam’s faults he had a good heart, and I was pretty sure all he needed to straighten himself out was for someone to give him a chance. I was also pretty sure he was hungry.
He sniffed the air as he came inside and set down his heavy backpack. A tiny Chihuahua in a matching leather jacket trailed in behind him.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“Arnold Schwarzenegger.” Cam handed me the dog’s leash so he could strip off his jacket and hang it on the coatrack. He left the dog’s jacket on, which was probably for the best. The tiny thing hardly had enough body fat to keep warm. For that matter, neither did Cam. He had the rangy frame of a growing boy who was accustomed to having to scrape for his meals, and while Cam adored his grandmother, I got the sense he was more her caretaker than she was his guardian. Sometimes, I think he wasn’t so much hungry as he just needed someone to treat him like the kid he hadn’t had the luxury of being.
Cam patted the Chihuahua’s head. “I found the little guy at the shelter last week. He isn’t as cool as Kevin Bacon… yet,” he added, picking up the dog before it could lift its leg on my foot. “He just needs a little training. Right, Arnold? Don’t piss on the nice lady’s leg or she won’t let us stay for dinner.” Kevin Bacon had been a lost, long-haired wiener dog that we’d been temporarily stuck caring for during our stay in Atlantic City. Cam had grown attached to Kevin, and he’d been reluctant to return the dachshund to its owner before we left. She had paid Cam a generous reward, and I wasn’t surprised to see he’d used some of that money to adopt a furry friend of his own.
Cam followed his nose to the kitchen and set Arnold down to wander. “Something smells good.”
“Meatloaf and mac ’n’ cheese. You’re welcome to join me. Help yourself to a drink.”
Cam rubbed his hands together and opened the fridge.
“Absolutely not,” I said as he reached for a beer. He heaved a sigh and settled for a Coke. Contrary to Mrs. Haggerty’s opinion of me, I was perfectly capable of setting boundaries and enforcing rules. Cam’s stomach growled. He peeked over my shoulder as I gave the pot of macaroni a final stir. “How’s your grandmother?” I asked him.
“Good, I guess. She’ll be back in a week.”
“A week? Where is she?”
“Remember the reward money I got for returning Kevin Bacon to that rich lady? I used it to send my grandma on one of those singles cruises for old people. I found a killer last-minute deal online.”
I turned from the stove, catching him as he blushed. “That was sweet of you, Cameron. But I thought that money was supposed to be for school.”
He shrugged. “I can go back to school anytime. Besides, my grandma always wanted to see all those fancy places in Europe, and I think she’s been kind of lonely lately.”
I got the sense that his grandmother wasn’t the only one. “Who’s taking care of you while she’s gone?”
He scoffed. “I’m eighteen. I don’t need a babysitter.” I raised an eyebrow as I sliced the meatloaf. He answered that with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I’m crashing with my uncle Joey,” he admitted. Cam’s uncle was Detective Joey Balafonte, Nick’s most recent partner. While Cam’s relationship with his uncle was contentious at times, Joey’s heart seemed to be in the right place. “But the guy’s a shitty cook.”
“Well, you’re always welcome here.” I handed Cam a heaping plate of meatloaf, macaroni, and green beans.
“Thanks, Mrs. D.” He sat down at my kitchen table and pulled Arnold Schwarzenegger onto his lap. Blowing the steam off a corner of his meatloaf, he offered the dog a taste. Then he tucked into his meal as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“Who’s that in the other room?” he asked, using his finger to scrape the last of the cheese sauce from his plate.
“My neighbor. Her heat’s not working and she needed a place to stay for a few days.” I figured the less Cam knew about Mrs. Haggerty’s situation, the better.
“What’s the matter with her? Not a fan of meatloaf?”
“I think she might be a little homesick.”
“Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you mind?” he asked, reaching for the untouched plate of food I’d prepared for her.
“Help yourself.”
Cam stood and carried Mrs. Haggerty’s plate to the living room. He set it on the coffee table in front of her with a set of utensils, a napkin, and a Coke. Mrs. Haggerty blinked at him as he sat down beside her on the sofa and took the remote.
“You like video games?” he asked her as he changed the channel.
Two hours later, I had washed the dishes, tidied the playroom, taken a shower, and run a load of laundry, all to the sound of screeching wheels, sirens, and shouting from the living room. Cam and Mrs. Haggerty were still sitting in front of the television when I came back downstairs. Mrs. Haggerty’s hunched, frail shoulders were side by side with Cam’s taller ones. Arnold Schwarzenegger was curled at their feet, an empty dinner plate on the coffee table in front of them.
“That’s it! You’ve got him! Take the shot!” Cam said.
Mrs. Haggerty gripped the controller in her lap, her knobby fingers haphazardly pressing all the buttons at once. Gunfire erupted on the screen. Blood spattered on brick.
Cam whooped. “Get it, Mrs. H!” He perched on the edge of his seat as he watched Mrs. Haggerty’s avatar break through a window. She shimmied down a fire escape and dove into a car.
“Everything okay in here?” I asked.
“I taught Mrs. H how to play GTA . Look at her go. She’s a natural!”
A target appeared on the screen and the man’s head exploded, brains and gore spraying everywhere. “Take that, you hooligans!” Mrs. Haggerty cried.
I winced. “Wouldn’t she rather watch TV?”
“Studies have shown video games are very beneficial to seniors,” he said sagely. “Something about all that cognitive shit and hand-eye coordination and whatnot. I play Call of Duty with my grandma all the time.”
“You couldn’t have taught her Animal Crossing ?”
“She wanted a first-person shooter. What can I say? The woman’s a badass.” Mrs. Haggerty’s character whipped a gun out of her car window, releasing a hellscape of bullets and taking down a few innocent bystanders along with the bad guy. Satisfied, she rose stiffly from the couch while holding her lower back.
“Thank you, young man. That was very exciting.” She passed Cam her controller and patted his shoulder.
“Remember the rules we talked about, Mrs. H.” He held up his index finger, preparing to count them off.
“Always use two-factor authentication,” she said dutifully.
“Number two?”
“Rich Nigerian princes don’t need any money.” He held up a third finger. “The IRS does not take payments over the phone.” He held up a fourth and fifth finger. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, and never post photos of yourself without clothes.”
“Good job.” He gave her a thumbs-up.
“I’m heading to bed,” she announced. “I have a long day tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have a meeting, and I’ll need a ride. The police impounded my vehicle after they detained me, and now they refuse to give it back… some nonsense about how my license has expired and I’m too old to drive. My book club is expecting me and it’s my turn to bring lunch.”
Cam’s hand shot up. “I can drive you!”
“You don’t have a car,” I reminded him.
“No problem, Mrs. D. I’ll just take yours.”
I threw him a look. “Mrs. Haggerty, what time do you need to be at your meeting? I’ll take you.”
She didn’t thank me so much as offer me a curt nod. “Eleven o’clock. I’ll see you all in the morning,” she said, turning for the stairs.
Cam put his game controllers in his backpack, scooped up Arnold, and headed for the door.
“Hold on. I’ll give you a ride home,” I offered, reaching for my coat. I didn’t like the idea of Cam walking to the nearest bus stop alone.
He held up his phone. “I got an Uber.”
“How much is it?” I asked, opening my wallet. The least I could do was spring for his ride.
“Don’t worry about it. I already Venmo’d myself a hundred from your bank account. Later, Mrs. D,” he said on his way out the door.
I shook my head as I watched him duck into the back seat of a rideshare. Not two weeks had passed since Vero and I had caught Cam hacking our mobile devices for his mob-boss employer. I had given him a stern lecture while Vero had purged all the spyware she could find from our phones. Still, the fact that he was being honest about his crimes felt like progress.