Bodily Harm: A Novel Read online

  Pulling back, she asked, “Hey, why the long face?” Her eyes widened. “You didn’t lose, did you?”

  “No. We won.”

  She sighed. “Thank God. I’m so happy for those poor people.”

  “Me too.” Sloane knew that nothing would bring back the McFarlands’ six-year-old boy, but for the family, the jury’s verdict at least validated their decision to sue, erasing the silent stigma that they were nothing more than money-grubbing plaintiffs looking to capitalize on a tragedy.

  Parting with another kiss, Sloane produced the bouquet of roses from behind his back.

  Tina grinned. “For me?”

  “Thanks for putting up with me,” he said.

  Though Tina never complained about the late nights and long weekends, her accepting the roses made Sloane feel as though he was forgiven.

  She kissed him again. “They’re beautiful.”

  When they sat she handed him a postcard of the Roman Coliseum. Alex and Charles Jenkins had taken their delayed honeymoon, leaving Charles Junior with his grandmother in New Jersey. Alex had written a thoughtful synopsis of their visit to Rome. Under it, Charlie had scribbled a note.

  Send blue cheese dressing. Sick of oil and vinegar.

  “Sounds like they’re having a good time.”

  “They’re in Venice. I called Alex today.”

  “Wait a minute. Charlie pays for a fifty-cent postcard and I get a fifty-dollar phone bill. How does that happen?”

  House appeared at their table with two menus and Sloane’s beer, but Sloane ordered from memory. “Meat loaf,” he said.

  Tina ordered the crab cakes.

  “You want a glass of chardonnay?” House asked.

  “Just water,” Tina said.

  “No wine?” Sloane asked. “I thought we must be celebrating something.”

  “I have an early appointment tomorrow,” she said.

  “Hey, that’s great. Big job?”

  “Just a remodel here in town.” Tina’s architecture business had been slow with the economy in the toilet, and Sloane was happy she was bidding on a job again.

  “How are things at home?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

  “I was hoping the phone call was the bad news.”

  She threw her napkin at him. “Boy, we are grumpy aren’t we, Ebenezer?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “All right, I’ll take the good news.”

  She handed him a manila packet. “Jake’s adoption papers came in the mail, and I talked to Frank. He says he’ll sign them. Jake’s all yours if you really want to do this. He will officially become Jake Andrew Sloane.”

  They had discussed Sloane’s adopting Jake to avoid the constant and predictable confusion each time Sloane tried to sign forms on Jake’s behalf, be it for the doctor, dentist, or school administration. Legally, Sloane was not Jake’s father or even his guardian. But the desire to adopt was more than just to solve procedural inconveniences. Sloane wanted them to be a family and to remove every boundary, even artificial ones, to that goal. He wanted to be Jake’s father as much as he wanted to be Tina’s husband. Doing it legally would be the best way to convince Jake that Sloane loved him and would always be there for him. At the same time, Sloane had been emphatic that the decision to change his last name was Jake’s alone to make.

  “Have you told him?”

  “No. I wanted to wait for you.”

  “Let’s tell him tonight.”

  “Good. We can also discuss the bad news.” Tina pulled out another packet of papers from her purse and handed them to Sloane. On the top page, in bright red ink, was a D-.

  “Damn,” Sloane said, looking over Jake’s algebra exam. “I was supposed to help him study last week and I got delayed at the office to do that piece on Channel Five. I let him down.” He sighed. “This is not a good start to becoming his father, is it?”

  To her credit, Tina did not rub it in. “What can we do to change it?”

  “I can begin by keeping my word and better prioritizing my life.”

  With his busy schedule Sloane and Jake’s time together had suffered. They had not been out on the boat to fish since June, and they had put off a summer vacation when Sloane got called to be the keynote speaker at a national trial lawyers meeting. It was about then when Jake had gone back to calling him “David,” instead of “Dad.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s just the first test, and his teacher said he can retake it to try to improve his grade.”

  “What did Jake say?”

  She made a face and imitated Jake’s voice. “‘What’s the point, I’ll just fail again.’”

  Sloane took a sip of his beer.

  “What’s going on? This isn’t end-of-the-world stuff. Did something happen at work?”

  Sloane was still learning how to share his emotions. When he had lived alone he could brood in his apartment for days. That was no longer an option. Tina gave him space, but only for so long before she sought answers.

  Sloane shook his head. “I’m fine. Just a little blue.”

  She tilted her head, considering him. “Well, maybe I can do something about that.”

  “I thought you said Jake was at home.”

  She kicked him playfully under the table. “I meant I have other news. I was going to save it but . . .”

  “Good news, hopefully?”

  She smiled. “Hopefully.”

  Sloane sensed her being coy. “So what is it?”

  “I was just thinking that when we tell Jake about the adoption papers we might want to add another pro to his list of reasons to change his name.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Because then both our children will have the same last name.”

  GALAXY TOYS’ CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS

  PHOENIX, ARIZONA

  LATE IN THE afternoon, Maxine Bolelli sat with her fist pressed against her upper lip to keep from screaming. When Malcolm Fitzgerald finished talking she moved her fist and leaned closer to the speakerphone in the center of the table. “You’re making a big mistake, Malcolm.”

  “You’ve said that, Maxine.”

  “No, I said I won’t wait forever for Kendall to get its act together. I know you’re still juggling a lot of balls, but if you’re holding on out of some sense of loyalty or duty to Sebastian your loyalties are sorely misplaced. He will be dead in weeks. We both know it. A bad deal, but shit happens.”

  “Your sympathy is touching.”

  At forty-three, Bolelli, raised in a family with five brothers, did not shy away from competition or confrontation, and she did not mince words. Since Hugh Galaxy and the board had named Bolelli CEO, Galaxy’s annual revenues had grown to $3.2 billion, putting the company in position to finally challenge Titan for toy world supremacy. Acquiring Kendall Toys, which had a strong action figure department—something Galaxy had never been able to sustain—would be the final step in her quest, and Bolelli wasn’t about to let Malcolm Fitzgerald keep Galaxy from its rightful place at the top.

  “The two of us never much liked each other in life. Death isn’t about to change that. Your obligation is to your shareholders.”

  “The board has made this decision in the best interests of our shareholders.”

  “How can you say that?” Bolelli did not try to hide her exasperation. She shifted her gaze to the two people sitting across from her: Brandon Craft, Galaxy’s president, and its chief financial officer, Elizabeth Meyers. “Your third-quarter numbers look like a train wreck.”

  “A blip on the radar.”

  “That blip has been present since Sebastian announced his retirement.”

  “The board isn’t interested, Maxine.”

  “The offer is off the table when we finish this conversation, Malcolm. Don’t bother to call me back.”

  “What about lunch next time you’re in town?”

  Bolelli hung up, pushed away from the table, and paced the blue carpet
in her bare feet. She’d had the office decorated completely in robin’s-egg blue, from the carpeting to the upholstered chairs and the leather couch. She also frequently wore the color. It wasn’t her favorite, but robin’s-egg blue was the distinctive color associated with Baby Betty, the doll that had put Galaxy on the map and sustained it for more than half a century. Bolelli had been Baby Betty’s nanny since Galaxy lured Bolelli from a rival toy company, and even after her promotion, Bolelli refused to hand off the doll, trusting Galaxy’s meal ticket to no one else.

  “How could they reject it?” Craft asked.

  “I don’t know how,” Bolelli said. “I don’t know why. But that arrogant bastard just told me to shove thirty-five million dollars up my ass.”

  “How do you want to play it?” Craft asked.

  Bolelli considered her options but not for long. “Get on the phone with our contacts in the media and on Wall Street. Let’s see how he likes it when his shareholders are screaming for his head on a platter.”

  “How much do you want to give away?” Meyers asked, referring to the Scottsdale negotiations.

  “Everything. I want Kendall’s shareholders to know how reasonable we’ve been and how unreasonable he’s been. I want him crawling back, begging me to make him an offer.”

  “We’ll be putting Titan on notice of the negotiations,” Craft said, tentative.

  “You don’t think Ian knows everything already?” She referred to Titan CEO Ian Hansen. “I can’t go to the bathroom around here without him hearing the toilet flush in Chicago. I’m not worried about Titan. They don’t have the cash reserves to make this kind of offer, and if Fitzgerald would turn down the offer I just made him, no way he’d take less. I’m more interested in how a man watching a century-old company disintegrate while he stands at the helm could say no to millions of dollars and sound like Christmas came three months early at the same time.” She looked out the windows at a plane on a flight path toward Phoenix Airport. “He has to have something in his back pocket. There’s no other explanation. He’s banking on something. I can smell it. Why don’t I know what that is?”

  Neither Craft nor Meyers answered, apparently thinking her question rhetorical.

  Bolelli turned on them. “Why don’t I know what that is, Brandon?”

  Craft stumbled. “I talked to my source this morning. There was a board meeting, and he said no one looked happy going into it.”

  “Well then something probably happened,” Meyers said, stating the obvious.

  “Of course something happened. What I want to know is what that was,” Bolelli said. “And I want to know now.”

  THREE TREE POINT

  WASHINGTON

  TOO EXCITED TO wait any longer, Sloane and Tina decided to have dessert at home with Jake and tell him the news over a bowl of ice cream. Neither was certain how Jake would react, though he had been dropping hints that it might be okay to have a little brother, and maybe a sister, as long as she wasn’t the annoying type.

  “I’ll get the ice cream,” Sloane said as they walked in the back door. “I think we better stock up; you might have those midnight cravings for things like ice cream and sardines.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Ew.”

  “You go reel in Jake; he’s probably down at the water, fishing.”

  As he retrieved bowls and spoons, habit caused Sloane to look to the granite counter, but Bud did not trot along its edge, purring and looking to be fed. Two months earlier his cat had darted from the house just as the neighbor’s seventeen-year-old son sped up the block in his parents’ Mercedes, killing Bud. Sloane and Jake had built a coffin, lined it with Bud’s favorite blanket, and buried him in the backyard, facing the Puget Sound, so Bud could dream about fish forever. Sloane had cried that day. He and Bud had been alike. Both orphans, they had managed somehow to find a family. Even after two months, Sloane found himself mourning his cat’s death, and any discussion of a replacement seemed sacrilegious, though Jake and Tina were making subtle hints about a puppy.

  • • •

  WHEN SLOANE FINISHED his ice cream he rested his spoon in his bowl. “So, Jake, your mother and I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”

  Jake had been uncharacteristically quiet, as if he knew the shoe was about to drop and hoped his silence might make him invisible. He raised his focus from his bowl. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I tried. I really tried, but I don’t get it. Please don’t tell me I can’t go fishing anymore.”

  Tina raised a napkin to cover her smile.

  “Well, since you brought it up, Jake, let’s talk about your algebra test,” Sloane said.

  Jake’s jaw dropped. He looked like he wanted to slap his forehead. “You mean you were going to talk about something else? Oh, crap.”

  “Language,” Tina said.

  “Actually, Jake, I should be apologizing to you,” Sloane said.

  “Why, what did you do wrong?”

  “I made you a promise and I didn’t keep it. I promised to help you with your algebra. A man is only as good as his word. I’m afraid mine wasn’t worth much.”

  “That’s okay, David. You’ll do better next time.” Jake quickly pushed back his chair from the table.

  “Hang on a second there, partner,” Sloane said. “That being said, we both have some work to do, and we’ll start tonight, after dinner. We’ll go over your test and find out why your answers are wrong. Then we’ll get started on your homework.”

  “It’s not due until Friday.”

  “Good, then we have plenty of time to get it done right. I don’t want you to wait until the last minute and cram on Thursday night.”

  “That’s what you did for your trial.”

  “What?”

  “You told Mom that Tom did all the work, and you had to cram over the weekend and couldn’t take her to that garden show.”

  Tina raised her napkin again. Sloane wanted to kick her under the table.

  “You’re right, I did say that, but that wasn’t because I was off having fun. I was working on other things and couldn’t get to it. Do you understand the difference?”

  Jake nodded. “Sure, that’s why you couldn’t help me with my algebra.”

  Tina had to turn her head and bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Sloane decided to retreat. “Now, the next thing we need to talk about, as a family, is that issue about my adopting you. Have you given that some consideration?”

  Jake nodded. “I made a pro and con table like you told me.” He rushed into Sloane’s office, emerged with a pad of paper, and set it on his chair. “Okay,” he said, drawing their attention like a lawyer before a jury. “Let’s start with the cons.” He flipped the sheet of paper. Sloane’s heart sank. Jake had listed eight reasons not to change his name. “To begin with, this could become very confusing for my friends. I mean they know me as Jake Carter, and changing my name to Sloane will be hard for them to remember. It will also be difficult for my teachers, although that might not be such a bad thing for Mr. Jackson,” he said, referring to his math instructor.

  Sloane couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Continuing on . . .” Jake went through each of the eight listed reasons, each a valid point against changing his name, each another blow to Sloane’s hopes.

  “Now,” Jake said, “let’s look at the pros.” He paused.

  Sloane felt as nervous as waiting for a jury verdict.

  Jake flipped the chart. On the page behind it he had drawn a huge smiley face. “Because I would be stoked!”

  Sloane thrust a fist in the air. “Yes!” He gave Jake a hug. “And I’ll be stoked too. I promise you, Jake, I’ll be there for you. We’ll be a family, just as close as if we were blood related.”

  “Closer even.”

  “Closer than blood?”

  “Sure. I mean, normally you can’t pick your family, right? You’re stuck with them. But we’re actually choosing to be a family. That makes us even closer.”

  Sloane turned to Tin
a. “I think Jake has displayed some real maturity tonight. The kind of maturity that should be rewarded, don’t you agree?”

  Jake’s eyes bugged. “I can get a puppy?”

  “We were thinking about something else,” Tina said. “Something better than a puppy.”

  Jake looked genuinely perplexed. “Better than a puppy?”

  Tina smiled. “How about a baby brother or sister?”

  AFTER JAKE WENT upstairs to read in his room, Sloane and Tina pulled on light fleece jackets and stepped outside to enjoy the sunset over the Olympic Mountain Range, a dazzling display of color and beauty. Hand in hand they stepped over the logs to the sand-and-gravel beach, their shoes crunching as they strolled. A chorus of crickets and the occasional deep bass croak of a bullfrog interrupted the rhythmic lapping of waves. Fishing boats tethered to white buoys bobbed just offshore. August and September had become Sloane’s favorite months in the Pacific Northwest. The sun rose early and set late, allowing him to spend more time with Tina and Jake after work.

  “So, Mr. Sloane,” Tina said. “Are you prepared for this?”

  “Walking? Oh sure. I’ve been walking since I was one.”

  She punched his arm. “I meant the baby.”

  Sloane joked, but he knew he had not hidden his apprehension well when Tina gave him the news and she had clearly picked up on it. “I guess I better be,” he said. They walked on. “Have you told your parents?”

  Tina shook her head. Her smile faded. Her mother and stepfather, Terri and Bill Larsen, had never accepted Sloane, and there was no shortage of reasons for their rejection. The Larsens had raised their daughter in an upscale San Francisco neighborhood and sent her to a private school near Presidio Heights where San Francisco’s blue-blooded families maintained mansions. They had been elated when Tina married Frank Carter, the son of one of those families, which helped them gain access into that community, and then devastated that she would divorce him, regardless that Frank had turned out to be a spoiled man with little ambition, work ethic, or sense of responsibility who had blown through his trust fund.