Chapter 38
TARA
"You weren't kidding. You can really sing," Chloe says, a warm smile illuminating her pretty face. When I don't respond, she catches the direction of my gaze.
"Jason's here..." I begin weakly.
"Yes," Chloe says, not understanding the situation.
"He and Miss Swain really hit it off at the dinner party,” she continues. “But why are you so surprised? I know he upset you that night with that silly game of footsie under the dinner table, but—"
"It's not that," I say, shaking my head. "Sorry, I need to have a word with Cameron."
I tear myself away from my friend and find Cameron chatting with Mindy, the violinist from the opera troupe. They both turn to me with genuine smiles.
"My dear," says Mindy, "what an amazing voice. Why didn't you tell us? You are certainly destined for stardom."
"Thank you," I say, already pulling Cameron away. "I'm sorry, but I need to speak to Cameron for a minute."
When we're alone and can't be overheard, I speak. "Jason's here! He's up to something, Cameron."
Cameron's face darkens as he spots Jason talking to Miss Swain. But before Cameron can say a word, Jason's voice carries across the room:
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?"
"It's happening," I whisper to myself.
Every conversation dies as Jason positions himself in the center of Miss Swain's elegant living room.
"I have an announcement to make." Jason gestures toward where Posey sits with the twins.
"Come on over to your Uncle Jason, Posey, like a good girl."
Posey walks over, with Edison padding behind her. Jason puts a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Cameron moves instinctively toward his daughter, but I gently hold him back.
"I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been a proper uncle to my niece. My own blood," Jason announces, his politician's smile never wavering. "And I'm going to change that, starting now."
People in the crowd murmur.
“Tonight, I'm formally announcing my suit for custody of my niece. On the grounds that Cameron is an unfit father."
Jason’s eyes find Cameron across the room. "That is, if he's her genuine father at all."
Murmurs grow louder around the room. I look to where Salty stands with Miss Swain. The old fisherman clenches his fists in anger, but I can't identify the expression on Miss Swain's face.
"The paternity test was inconclusive," Jason continues smoothly. "My sister was a troubled girl. Everyone here knew her growing up. As a young woman, she was reckless. Promiscuous. Posey's father could be anyone. Cameron is not my niece's biological father, and I will prove it."
I restrain Cameron once again. Posey moves as if to escape Jason's tight grip.
"Aside from the fact that he's a rockstar with all of a rockstar's sordid ways, Cameron Crow associates with known criminals.
He has a violent temper. We all witnessed this yesterday after he nearly physically assaulted an innocent fan who wanted to take his picture.
This violent rockstar destroyed the innocent man's camera, causing thousands of dollars of damage. "
As I look around the room, Jason seems to be doing a good job of gaining the sympathy of Miss Swain’s guests.
"And the savage rockstar keeps odd company," Jason continues, his voice carrying across the silent room. "This so-called nanny living in my family’s home. This woman who has the responsibility of caring for my sweet niece. Has a violent history as a pugnacious juvenile delinquent."
Gasps sound around the room. Everyone's attention turns to me. Heat floods my face. Cameron narrows his eyes as he puts a warm, protective hand around my shoulder.
"What are you talking about?" he calls out.
"Did you look at her criminal record before you hired her, Cameron?" Jason taunts. "You trusted a juvenile delinquent to watch your self-declared daughter?"
Cameron stares at me as if to say: What the fuck is he talking about?
"Tara? Do you want to speak up for yourself?" Jason says.
My throat closes. I can't speak.
"As a teenager," Jason announces, "this woman assaulted an officer of the law so badly he had to go to the emergency room. Doctors weren't sure he'd pull through."
The room goes dead silent.
"Don't deny it, Tara. Your record as a juvenile delinquent is going to be in the papers tomorrow. Everyone here can read it and make their own judgment."
"Daddy Cameron!" Posey breaks away from Jason and wraps herself around her father's knees. She reaches her little hand to touch mine.
"Well, good evening, everybody," Jason says with the same cold smile. "That's all I wanted to share."
The room stays frozen in shocked silence as Jason straightens his jacket and walks toward the door. Miss Swain finds her voice first. "Jason, what on earth—"
But he's already gone, slamming the door, leaving chaos in his wake.
Cameron's arms tighten around me as conversations explode across the room. I can hear fragments—"juvenile delinquent," "paternity test," and "unfit father."
"We're leaving," Cameron says against my ear, his voice rough. "Now."
He scoops Posey into his arms, tearing her from where she had clung to my dress. Edison presses against my legs as we push toward the door.
"Cameron, wait—" Miss Swain calls after us. But we're already outside, the cool night air hitting my flushed face.
The driver jumps out to open the Rolls-Royce door. "Home," Cameron tells him tersely.
We sit in absolute silence during the drive. Posey leans exhausted against Cameron's chest. Edison stretches out across the floor. Even the dog seems to understand something horrific just happened.
I stare out the window, Jason's words echoing in my head.
The mansion feels different when we return—too quiet, too empty.
Cameron carries Posey upstairs while I follow with Edison, all of us moving like we're underwater.
"It's okay," Cameron murmurs as he tucks Posey into bed. "That man was just confused. Just a crazy person saying crazy things."
She doesn't understand what happened, but I’m sure she can feel the tension radiating from both of us.
Posey’s little face is tear-streaked as Cameron kisses her forehead. We both wait until her breathing evens out and she falls into a restless sleep.
Edison curls up beside her bed like a furry guardian.
Once we're downstairs, Cameron pours us both a scotch without asking if I want one. His hands shake slightly as we settle onto the sofa.
"Do you want to explain what just happened?"
His voice is carefully controlled.
“Jason couldn't have made that stuff up, Tara. What's this about assaulting a cop?"
I take a deep breath. My chest feels tight. Like I can't get enough air.
"I haven't told you much about my home life," I say, my voice barely audible.
"You said your father died when you were fourteen. And your mother is still recovering."
"That's all true. But my father didn't die in an accident."
He waits.
"He was a money manager. For famous people. Celebrities like yourself. By every measure, he was successful. Clever. But it turned out he stole from clients. When he found out he was going to be indicted, instead of doing jail time or facing embarrassment—he shot himself."
Cameron sets down his scotch. "Where were you when it happened?"
"In the next room. I found him."
"Jesus Christ, Tara." Cameron moves toward me, but I hold up my hand.
"My mother was out of the country when it happened. They'd been estranged by that point. She was trying to distance herself."
Cameron waits for me to continue.
"Anyway, I called 911. The ambulance and police arrived. Because my mother was out of the country and I didn't have any relatives, the police took me to juvenile hall."
Cameron's face hardens.
"They put you in a cell?"
"I had to spend the night there. I was screaming to be let out, hysterical. My father was the most important person in my life."
Edison quietly pads down the staircase from Posey's room. Sensing my need, he walks over and puts his head in my lap. I stroke his warm, comforting fur.
"A guard came into my cell that night. He closed the door and locked it."
My voice gets smaller. "He tried to—he tore off all my clothes. Like some kind of frenzied animal. He pushed me to the cement floor so hard I felt like my head was broken."
I pause, the memory still raw after all these years.
"Then he started pressing himself against me. But one of my heavy wedge shoes was nearby. The platform kind with the thick metal heel was popular back then. I grabbed it and smashed it into his head. Then I kept kicking him in the balls to knock him out until the authorities rescued me."
"Oh, my God. Tara!" Cameron's voice is barely a whisper.
"When it came time to testify, the guard said I was a maniac who attacked him for no reason. They believed him. Imagine that. A grieving, hysterical fourteen-year-old versus a uniformed officer."
"But you were defending yourself!"
"The judge didn't see it that way. I was sentenced. My mother hired a lawyer, and eventually the charges were reduced to a misdemeanor."
I look up at him. "But it's still on my record. For anyone to see. Even Jason, as you just saw."
Cameron runs his hands through his hair.
"I could never have imagined it would come to this,” Cameron says. “Everything Jason said tonight was exaggerated, but true. I destroyed that photographer's camera. I was seconds away from punching him in the face. That can't be denied."
"And the paternity test?" The words stick in my throat. "You told me you passed with flying colors."
He's quiet for a long moment, staring into his scotch.
"Did you lie about that?"
"I didn't lie," he says quietly. "But the test was inconclusive. They need another sample. More sophisticated equipment at a lab off this island."
"How long will that take?"
He shrugs. "Longer than we want."
"But Posey is your daughter! I see you in her. Not just her appearance. But your mannerisms. You're so alike."
"The law doesn't see it that way."
We sit in silence.
I finish my scotch even though I rarely drink hard liquor. It doesn't make me tipsy. It just steadies my nerves.
"What's going to happen to Posey?" I finally ask.
"I'll fight it. You know I will. I have the money for the best lawyers. Radha already gave me a list. We'll interview them together."
"No," I say, looking into his eyes.
"No? No what?"
"I mean, no. I can't stay here. It will ruin everything for you and Posey. You and whatever lawyer you hire must work together to defuse what Jason said about you being a bad father. I'm sure this attorney would advise you to distance yourself from me. At least until the battle is over."
"When it is, we'll work to clear your name. So you don't have a criminal record."
I nod. That seems so far in the future. "I better go upstairs and pack."
"But where will you go?"
I try to smile. "Zaza said Keesha was having trouble with her new roommate. I'll couch surf until she's gone."
"I'll give you enough cash to survive this summer until Posey and I move back to New York."
The unspoken words 'if he can move back to New York' hang invisible in the air.
When I turn to go upstairs, I half expect him to follow me up to my bedroom.
But I hear him playing “Shelter from the Storm” on his guitar, its familiar melody reawakening that magical experience we shared.