Paint It Black (18 page)

Cougar made a trip back to the desk and talked with the same nurse. She told him that if the doctor didn’t come out to speak to us in a moment, she’d get an update.

Five minutes later, she came over to report that Elizabeth was doing fine, but would be admitted overnight for observation and tests.

A crowd of teenagers entered the waiting room, talking loudly among themselves about a car wreck. Abby crawled up into Cougar’s lap.

“Why don’t you two go on?” I said. “Milano should be here any time.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Cougar replied at the same
time I spotted Milano walking through the entrance. He gave us a smile and a little wave and sauntered over.

“That’s him,” I said, and stood to greet him. Cougar hoisted Abby on his hip and stood, too.

I introduced them. Cougar extended his free hand to Milano to shake, then glanced at me. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

He nodded and walked toward the exit.

Milano gave me a cheerful grin and made a karate chop in the air. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I know Tai Chi Nygun.”

“You do?” I smiled, anticipating the punch line.

“Oh, yeah. He’s my proctologist. He sees assholes like Grady every day.”

I snorted.

Milano nodded toward the exit. “So, this Jason … is he someone I need to know about, for the case?”

“He’s a member of my team.”

“You’re not sleeping with him?” Milano held up his palms. “Sorry I have to ask, but I need to be prepared for anything.”

“It’s okay. No, we’re not sleeping together. I’ve got enough problems without throwing that in the mix. But his name might come up. Grady’s jealous of him, and every other guy I work with.”

“He seems like a nice guy. Very concerned for you.”

“Cougar’s a friend. My best friend.”

“Cougar, Cougar …” Milano snapped his fingers and his eyes lit up. “Now I remember where I know this guy from. He’s the one all the court reporters talk about. They swoon when he walks by.”

“Even Henry?”

Milano winked. “Oh, Henry’s the first to hit the floor.”

I giggled at the image, then clutched my ribs. “Ow, don’t make me laugh.”

He handed the crutches to me. “I could give you my bill, and make you cry.”

“Give it to Grady,” I said, while we headed toward the door.

Milano rubbed his hands together. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. He’s going to get the full Milano treatment. So … how’s your mother-in-law?”

“They say she’ll be fine. Back to hating my guts in no time.”

“My mother-in-law’s mad at me, too. I made a Freudian slip at the dinner table last night.”

“What …” I gulped when we stepped into the cold night air. “What did you say?”

Milano giggled behind his hand like a kid. “Well, I … what I meant to say was, ‘Please pass the butter,’ but what slipped out was, ‘You ruined my life, you overbearing shrew.’”

He kept me laughing all the way to the jail. I almost forgot the grim task that lay ahead of me. That is, until
we pulled up at the police district.

Milano patted my hand. “Chin up, kiddo. I promise, this is going to work out.”

We found Grady and Mort waiting for us in a conference room. A stone-faced Mort sat back, while Grady propped his elbows on the table, resting his face in his hands. It hurt me to see the handcuffs on his wrists, and the reddened eyes that stared up at me, but I steeled myself. He had done this, not me. I was through feeling guilty for other people’s actions.

Grady winced when I hobbled inside, and tears filled his eyes. I looked away from him, choosing to stare at Mort instead.

“I trust Grady’s told you what I want?”

“He has.” Mort sighed. “And he agrees to your terms.”

“We have a few additional requests in light of your client’s recent actions,” Milano said, and pulled out a chair for him.

Mort shot Grady an
I
told you so
look and snorted. “And what would those be?”

“Surely you agree that there is sufficient evidence to suggest your client has a drinking problem.” He paused, but Mort merely blinked at him. “So, as part of the agreement—in the best interest of your client’s minor child—we insist that he attend an alcohol treatment program and meetings with LCL for a period of no less than six months.”

“LCL?” Grady said. “What is LCL?”

“Lawyers Concerned for Lawyers,” Milano replied. “They’re a private, nonprofit corporation that assists lawyers, judges, and law students who are experiencing any level of impairment in their ability to function as a result of personal, mental health, addiction, or medical problems. LCL provides assistance with problems such as career and family difficulties, depression, and stress, as well as alcoholism, substance abuse, gambling, and all other forms of addiction. They are very discreet.”

“What about money?” Mort asked. “I assume Denise wants alimony?”

“No, just the standard child support under Pennsylvania law and that your client continues to cover Abby under his medical insurance. Your client pays my fees.”

“About Abby …” Grady looked at me. “I want to see my daughter.”

“And you will,” Milano answered. “But under supervision until you’ve completed your alcohol program. That supervisor doesn’t have to be court appointed. It can be your mother, but if at any time we find that Abby has been left alone in your care, all visitation will be suspended.”

Grady slapped the desk. “I don’t believe this … you talk about me like I’m some kind of…” He rubbed his hands over his rumpled blond hair. “I could take you to court and get joint custody. I’ve never hurt Abby.”

“If you take us to court, you lose your license. Is
that a trade off you’re willing to make?” Milano’s hard, unflinching expression betrayed none of the affable joker he’d been outside this room. It made me think of people and the many masks they wore.

Grady leaned to whisper to Mort. They conferred for a few minutes, then Mort shifted.

“We agree to your terms. It’ll take us a few days to get it all drawn up—”

“I’ve got it right here.” Milano removed a folder from his briefcase. “The first four pages are the original terms; the last page contains the addenda.”

Mort scanned the papers, then scanned them again. He shoved them over to Grady and handed him a pen.

Grady hesitated, the pen between his fingers, and gave me another long look. I stared at the crutches beside me. He scrawled his name on the last two pages.

“I’m sorry, Denise,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Milano retrieved the papers and helped me stand. “I’ll leave you a copy of these outside at the desk. We’ll go tell them she’s dropping the charges.”

Like Lot’s wife, I couldn’t resist one last look over my shoulder. Grady sat up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. I stared at him, for some reason recalling the night Abby was born, the joyous expression on his face when he’d held her for the first time. I’d loved him then. He’d loved me. But those people were gone now. That love was gone. Our marriage had been reduced to a few typed
pages, and when I walked out the door, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved.

Milano insisted on walking me back inside the hospital. He checked with the desk to see where they’d moved Elizabeth, then waited for an elevator with me.

“They said she’s doing fine, but I’m a little worried about you, kiddo. You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Just very, very tired.”

“No wonder. You’ve had a heck of a day. I had one of those yesterday.” He sighed. “I put on a shirt, and a button fell off. I picked up my briefcase, and the handle fell off. I was afraid to go to the bathroom.”

I laughed despite all the aches and gloom and chaotic thoughts that plagued me. “You’re way too laid-back to be a lawyer, Milano.”

“Tell me about it. An alarming number of lawyers suffer from seriousness, like that Mort fellow. Do you think he stuffs his own shirts, or has to send them out?”

The elevator slid open, and he held the door while I hobbled inside. He pressed the button for the fourth floor and closed his eyes, humming along with the piped-in music.

“Is it a sign of old age, when the song you danced to at your high-school prom becomes elevator music?” He opened an eye and squinted at me. “That reminds me. Guess what the DEA agent’s favorite song is?”

“Um …” I rubbed my aching forehead. “Let’s see …
‘Amazing Grass’?”

He winced. “Boo, hiss. No, but ‘Don’t Sell It on the Mountain’ did come in second.”

I leaned against the elevator wall. “Give me a break, would ya … I can’t match wits with you on a good day, much less on an amazingly bad one.”

“‘Yakkety Yak, Don’t Smoke Crack.’”

“That’s terrible,” I said, but I was smiling when the elevator opened.

We walked down the hall in silence until I found Elizabeth’s door. “This is my stop. Thanks for every thing, Milano.”

“No problem.” He surprised me by giving me a quick hug. “You take care of yourself, doll. And not to sound mushy or anything, but don’t let this sour you on love. There are still some decent men out there.”

“Yeah, but they’ve been hunted to extinction.”

“Ah, you’d be surprised. Just stay away from lawyer types. You’re too good for us. Find yourself a nice doctor, a podiatrist maybe …” He winked. “Or maybe a freakishly handsome DEA agent with a weird nickname who looks at you with big goo-goo eyes.”

“Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I need, to be one of the women dropping like flies around his feet.”

Milano started walking away. “Don’t rule out your own bug-zapping abilities. You’re not too shabby, for a steenkin’ fed.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stopped and snapped his fingers. “This Cougar guy … does he wear an earring?”

I snorted. “You kidding? He’s from Texas.”

Milano shrugged. “Ah, too bad. Ben Franklin said, ‘Men who have pierced ears are better prepared for marriage. They’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.’”

“Ben Franklin said that?”

“Nah, but people will believe anything you say if you tell them Ben Franklin said it first. Later, kid.”

I waved good-bye and took a deep breath before opening Elizabeth’s door.

Mort’s wife, Jane, sat in the chair beside her bed. They both gave me the same stony look when I walked in.

“What are you doing here, Denise?” Jane asked.

Ignoring her, I approached the bed and spoke to Elizabeth. “How are you doing?”

“How do you think she’s doing? You just had her son arrested—”

“I dropped the charges. He’s probably on his way here now.”

Jane’s eyes glittered. “How nice of you, after he gave you everything you wanted. Mort called us from the jail. We know what you did.”

Although I’d sworn I wouldn’t let any of them provoke me, I couldn’t control the anger that flashed over me. “Excuse me? What I did? Look at me. Do you realize
what I could’ve done?”

“Jane … Denise, please. Not here.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I’m fine, Denise. Where’s Abby?”

“She’s on the next floor, with my friends.”

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a knowing look, and I bristled. “Look, I only wanted to see how you were doing. I’d better go before …” I almost said “before Grady gets here,” but stopped myself. Elizabeth knew what I meant anyway.

“Yes, I think that would be best. Please tell Abby I’m okay and I’d like to call her tomorrow night, with your permission.”

“Of course.”

I was still seething by the time I made it to Angel’s room, but my bad mood evaporated when I stepped inside. Cougar, Tucker, and Angel abandoned the ball game they were watching and turned their attention to me.

This is my family
, I thought.
These are the people I love
.

Abby lay curled in Cougar’s lap, asleep. The sight made my chest tighten, and I thought about Milano and his bug analogy. It was one thing to know I was about to get zapped, but an entirely different one to turn away from the light.

“How’d it go?” Cougar asked. I didn’t realize how tense he looked until his face relaxed. Abby stirred, and he absently stroked her hair.

“Well, she’s smiling, so it must not have been too
bad.” Tucker stood, vacating the chair beside Cougar, and helped me into it before taking a seat at the foot of Angel’s bed.

“Grady agreed to my demands, signed the papers. In about a month, it’ll be official.”

Cougar nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Now that he’s signed the papers, can we kick his ass?”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. Brushing a piece of hair from Abby’s cheek, I said lightly, “No, because he’s still her father.” Hesitantly, not sure I wanted to hear the answer, I asked, “So, how did she do?”

Cougar gave me a tired smile. “It took some tormenting, but we got her talking. She perked up when the nurse gave her an update on her grandma, said she was doing fine. Then the little brat found Angel’s comb. She nearly scalped me and Tucker both, playing beauty shop.”

I giggled at the image. “I thought you guys looked a little, ah … rumpled.”

“She asked about you when she started getting sleepy,” he added.

“Really?” I felt a twinge of hope. “She was so mad at me.”

“Kids are resilient,” Tucker said. “She’ll come around.”

Mrs. Angelino and Tori came in, bearing another carton of Karamel Sutra.

Cougar smiled. “You see what you started? I’ll have to run him around the municipal building five times a
day to work off that ice-cream gut he’s building.”

“Speaking of municipal building … I’d better get going. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” Tucker stood and ruffled my hair. “Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

I told him good-bye, then answered a string of anxious questions from Tori. After reassuring her I was fine, I turned to Cougar. “Are you still meeting Massey tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You wanna come with me?”

“I’d better pass. I have to catch up on some paperwork at the office, then I need to see if I can knock off early to check out some after-school care for Abby.”

“Necie, we’ll watch your little girl,” Mrs. Angelino said, and Tori nodded.

I shook my head. “No, you came to Philly to be with Angel, not babysit for me. Besides, I’d better be looking for something permanent. I don’t intend to keep Abby from her grandmother, but I figure Elizabeth won’t be as willing to help anymore.”