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This can’t go on like this, it can’t, it can’t ...
Then I reply to his text message.Where do you want to meet up, and what time?
28
ROWAN
Puck is awayfor the afternoon, on a doggie playdate that was arranged by Mason’s dog trainer. Mason’s reclining on his couch, his face stamped with a scowl, when I come in using the key he gave me. According to him, Pax and I have the only copies.
He’s barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and has a five o’clock shadow on his face. Even with his gloomy-pants expression, he’s heartbreakingly sexy.
“I bought ice cream.” I say, holding up a grocery bag. “That’s my go-to bad mood cure.”
“Thanks. Maybe later.” He sighs. “You can put it in the freezer.”
Wow. This is beyond even the help of ice cream. Must be serious.
After I stow the ice cream, I join him on the couch, setting my briefcase on the coffee table in case we need to do some work.
“Thanks for coming,” he says, with all the joie de vivre of a kid who just found out the truth about Santa Claus.
“I’m here when you need me,” I say, then wince, wondering if that sounded more personal than professional. Secretly dating a client is a tricky path to navigate.
“So, I agreed to see my mother next week, just to find out what she wants. She hasn’t asked me for money yet, but I feel like she’s going to. My father and I both made a promise to each other that we wouldn’t give her any more cash. It just runs through her fingers like water, and the more we give her, the faster she blows it, which means that she comes around more and more often. I mean, I haven’t seen her in a couple of years, but that’s the way it used to be.” He shakes his head. “We both really laid down the law a few years ago, and when she realized that the First National Bank of Mason was shut down, she vanished. Until now.”
He looks at me wearily. “She’s staying at a hotel in town, says she’s leaving soon, but I have no idea if that’s true or not. She and the truth are not very close acquaintances. What do you think I should do about this?”
“Well, are you asking me for advice from a PR perspective, or from a friend who’s got your back perspective?”
“Both, really.”
I consider this carefully. “As your publicist, you need to be ready for whatever she tries to pull, which means you need to be prepared with a press statement if she does something to hurt your image. That sounds harsh, but it’s just reality. If she goes on the attack, you have every right to defend yourself.” I open up my briefcase and pull out a yellow lined notepad and pen.
Mason nods thoughtfully. “Yeah. When you put it like that, you’re right. So what do you recommend we do?”
“Well, what can you tell me about your childhood, and her?”
Mason’s mouth quirks up in a wry smile. “I had the best-looking mom of all the kids in school. She went to one of my games ... once. Seduced the coach, broke up his marriage. Are these the kind of warm, fuzzy memories you’re looking for?”
I understand his bitterness, but I need to keep him on track. “How old were you when she left?”
“Honestly, she left off and on from when I was a few weeks old. But she left permanently when I was four. She didn’t say goodbye; my dad had to tell me. I cried. I asked what I’d done wrong. He said nothing, and that he’d always be there for me.” Mason blinks hard, and his jaw tightens.
“I’m very sorry,” I say gently. “How long was it before you saw her again?”
“About eight months. She came to a birthday party, didn’t bring a present, and left after half an hour, again without saying goodbye. I got used to that after a while.”
I’m scribbling notes.
“Good stuff, huh?” he says bleakly.
“Mason, it’s okay to be pissed off. And I’m really glad that you’ve made the healthy decision to stay away from her. I wish she’d respect your choices, but we’ll figure this out and she’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I’d like a rough estimate of how many times you saw her after she left.”
“Six when I was a little kid, then a few times when I was a teenager.” He scowls. “She visited my father more often than me when I was younger. He was the one with the piggy bank.”
“To your knowledge, has she ever been arrested?”
“I know of a number of DUIs; that’s one reason my father would never let her drive me anywhere.” He heaves a sigh. “Also, when she cornered me at the hospital, she first tried to claim that my father was the reason she couldn’t see me, said his lawyers threatened to throw her in jail if she even tried. When I told her that I had directly overheard conversations that contradicted that, she got all pouty and said, ‘Okay, well, I was ashamed of what I did.’ She’ll switch stories on a dime; when one thing doesn’t work, she’ll just try something else.”
