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Driving as though possessed, I saw a police car nearing, so I eased off the gas. Much to my relief, a speeding Ferrari had drawn their attention. My speeding habit, which had become second nature, needed breaking.
I pulled into the driveway and parked next to Tammy’s black BMW. I felt like running my key along it—or drawing a dick and balls. As juvenile as that was, it would have helped me blow off some steam.
When I entered the house, I headed straight to my office, where I ran into Britney carrying a cup of coffee.
She asked, “Have you thought about my offer?”
“I’m just about to go and negotiate with Tammy now. So, if all goes well, I won’t need it.”
“Do you realize you’re breaking the law by being here?”
I shrugged. “So what? I’m about to get her to withdraw her charge.”
“You’ll need me for Geneva, especially if you’re going to pay her what she’s asking for. I’m about to book a ticket.”
With nothing to add, I walked away.
I found Tamara lounging by the pool with a cocktail.
“You’d better get a drink, I suppose,” she said. “And be careful. If this doesn’t go my way, I’ll report you for breaching your bail.”
I stuck my finger up at her and headed inside to grab a strong drink, where I found Manuel watching cartoons. He ran up to me and wrapped his little arms around my thighs. I bent down, picked him up, and gave him a big hug.
It broke my heart to see him there alone with his evil mother. I loved that kid. He was Brent phase two, minus the smartass attitude.
“So what have you been up to?” I asked.
“Just school.”
“Dancing?”
He looked down at his feet and shook his head.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Mommy won’t let me.”
“We’ll see about that. Don’t worry. You’ll get back to it.”
“Are you moving?” he asked.
“No way. This is my home. And yours.”
That put a smile on his handsome little face.
As soon as I cleaned up my mess, I planned to arrange for Manuel to remain with me. Whatever it took, he was staying.
Tamara was on her phone, barking orders, when I returned with a drink. I sat down and sipped it while I waited.
She set her phone down and scowled at me. “You’d better make this good.”
I shook my head. “Have you always been a money-grabbing con artist?”
Tamara rose, sauntered over to a bottle of vodka, poured herself a drink, and drained a third of the glass. Then she lowered herself down, tipped her head slightly, and regarded me with narrowed eyes.
“You’ve had a silver spoon up your ass all your life, so I can’t expect you to understand what it’s like living on scraps and going without food for a day.”
I started to speak, but she held up her finger.
