I Love You Like That

by Heather Cumiskey

  Deacon studied his father’s stance. Cocky. But of course. “Because they had something on you. Something that could upset your career. You’re up for re-election next year, and whatever you were hiding would have affected that. It’s all about you, Dad. Always has been.”

  Kingsley sniffed. “What do you know about it? It’s politics, kid. Plus, I figured it would get you off our town’s streets, away from that abomination of a career you’d chosen, and force you to finally fulfill your civic duty. Remember, I suffered too . . . the embarrassment and disgrace of being forced to step down from lieutenant governor after the ‘accident.’” He tilted his head in Toby’s direction.

  Deacon guffawed. “Civic duty? You mean be a snitch for the Feds, spend every day knowing I was always one step away from being sliced, diced, and thrown away?”

  Babette released a guttural laugh under her breath.

  Deacon spun in her direction. “Fuck you!” he screamed. Babette’s malicious, smiling eyes squeezed back into her face and downgraded to a venomous stare.

  “Like you weren’t living the high life down there in Miami. I heard about your escapades, Xavier Coyne. Dressing like a gigolo, living large, partying all night . . .” Kingsley puffed out his chest and pulled down the sides of his suit jacket.

  “You hated me this much? Enough to sign away my life? My life! Even for you, that’s cold. I don’t understand. What exactly did you get out of the arrangement? What did you do that was that bad?”

  Kingsley pulled a loose thread from his suit. “The Feds promised to look the other way . . . preserve my political ties. Keep Chalfont and his goons off my ass.”

  “Tell me more,” Deacon coaxed.

  “Come on, D, let’s get out of here,” Toby urged, walking further into the room.

  “No . . . I want to hear it. Come on, Dad. I’m sure it was the deal of the century. You, the southern boy with the ever-present chip on his shoulder, finally getting to run with the big boys—dangerous ones, at that.”

  His mother cackled haughtily. This time Deacon ignored her childish antics.

  “I agreed to help the cartels with transportation routes so they could conduct their business and I could carry out mine.” Kingsley smiled. “It was genius, actually.”

  “And then you double-crossed them.” Deacon cocked his head. “Pretty cunning . . . you should have been the informant.”

  “Oh lord, Kingsley. You’re going to sink us both,” Babette warned, her fingers flying to her choker. Her lips moved like she was reciting the rosary on speed.

  “Let me get this straight,” Deacon said. “The cartel is bankrolling your campaign and you gifted your son to the Feds for insurance?”

  “Of course.” Kingsley straightened his stance. “I’m a shoo-in this time.”

  “I saw the same manila envelope on Chalfont’s desk sporting that damn Cadillac Club emblem,” Deacon said, disgust creeping into his voice. “You didn’t even try to hide your involvement. If anything, you flaunted it.”

  “It was worth it! After all this time, look at all the good I’ve pulled off in this town and in Washington. I’ve made a name for myself . . . finally out from Pierre’s grasp after all these years being married to this.” He motioned to Babette like she was a failed show horse. “His selfish, spoiled daughter whose only contribution to this marriage was . . . a loser of a son.”

  “Like you were some prize!” Babette growled.

  “Come on, D, you got what you needed,” said Toby, coming up behind Deacon and pulling on his shoulders.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Babette demanded, staring at them.

  “You leave with him and you can forget coming back!” Kingsley shouted at Toby. “You’re no longer welcome here. You’re no longer a Giroux!”

  “Fine by me . . . Pops.”

  The boys walked briskly out the front door to the driveway. Deacon opened the mailbox and tilted his chin toward the parked car tucked behind the trees, farther down the drive.

  “And this misión is terminada,” he announced, closing the mailbox. He hustled over to Toby and stopped him before he could reach his annoying candy-red Camaro. “Oh, and I’m driving,” he said, putting a hand to Toby’s chest. A smile crawled across his lips. “Bro.”

  Toby groaned and dropped the keys in his brother’s spread fingers. “This one time . . . little brother.” He grinned and got into the car.

  Deacon jolted the engine to life, spun the vehicle around, and gunned it down the driveway.

  Eastman pulled the electronic bug from his ear and clapped his hands like a toy monkey with cymbals. He slammed the car door and hurried to the mailbox, keeping his cigarette lit in his mouth. His toothpick legs moved at warp speed compared to his partner’s stumpy ones.

  “The kid came through,” he announced to Kodak when he eventually caught up to him, all red-faced and ragged.

  Eastman wound the wire around his hand before slipping the device into his pocket. He squinted while taking a drag, holding in the smoke for a few seconds. “Bet you didn’t expect Giroux to confess!” he crowed on the exhale.

  Kodak’s eyes popped like corn kernels as he gazed up at the mansion and all its grandeur. He used a hanky to wipe the sweat from his upper lip and brow. “I always liked that kid.” He said with a leer, patting Eastman’s back.

  “Yeah, right.”

  Eastman grabbed the lion doorknocker and rapped loudly. They waited. He thwacked it against the door again, and they heard a pair of high heels trotting toward them from inside.

  Eastman glanced back at his winded partner on the steps. “Hey buddy, here’s your Kodak moment . . . smile!”

  “Shut up, Virgil.”

  CHAPTER 51

  CRAMMED BETWEEN BOTH GIROUX BROTHERS IN THE front seat of Toby’s red two-seater Camaro convertible, her lower body sharing the passenger seat with Toby, while her upper body leaned toward Deacon, Hannah tried not to think about the heat radiating between her shoulder and Deacon’s. She’d meant what she’d said to him. She had changed.

  Just how the three of them had managed to find their way back together after that ill-fated December night in the park was too bizarre to comprehend. But here they were, driving through the streets of Darien like the three of them in one car was nothing short of normal.

  No one said a word as they passed Gossamer Park.

  She pushed her thoughts aside and held her breath as they turned onto her street.

  “Shoot, they’re back already.” She grimaced at the sight of her parents’ station wagon in the driveway. “That was quick.”

  Deacon pulled up to the curb and shifted into park. “Want me to come in with you?” he asked, his intense eyes lingering on hers.

  “I’ve got this,” she said firmly, her lips returning a small smile. “Now I have to rescue me.”

  Toby stepped out and retrieved her bag from the trunk. “Good luck in there,” he said, giving her one of his chipmunk-cheek grins.

  She walked up the path to her house. Everything about it seemed different—smaller, older, she didn’t know what. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the house that was different.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Her parents were waiting for her in the living room. A blur out of the corner of her eye rushed toward her.

  “Kerry! Oh, I’m so glad to see you. How are you, honey?” Her little sister’s face beamed before she threw her arms around her big sister. “Good now,” she said with a giggle, her sweet, melodic voice warming the air and everything in sight.

  Hearing Kerry’s little voice and seeing her face light up renewed Hannah’s strength.

  “You’re really okay, aren’t you? I can’t believe you’re finally home!” Every part of her had missed this little person.

  Her eyes drifted over to her parents. Her mother sat perched on the gold corduroy couch, her father in his recliner.

  “Glad to see everyone’s finally together again,” she said tentatively.

  “How was the w
orkshop?” her father started from behind his newspaper.

  “I wasn’t at the workshop. It was last month.”

  “We know,” he said, folding the paper across his lap and glaring at her. “I spoke to Mrs. Myers.”

  The butterflies Hannah had carried into the house suddenly stopped fluttering and fell into a clump in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep inhale and another stab at the truth.

  “I went to help a friend. Um . . . y-you’ve sort of met him before. Anyway, he was in a bad place. I’m back now.” Her eyes volleyed between them. “I guess I’m grounded.”

  Her father cleared his throat. “We’re very disappointed in you, young lady. We go out of town and again you—”

  “Where did I work all summer?” Hannah interjected. “Do either of you know?”

  “What?” her father said, unmistakable annoyance at having been interrupted in his tone.

  “Do you know where I worked this summer?” Hannah repeated.

  His eyes darted to her mother, who moved her head slightly.

  “Just what I thought. That’s because neither of you ever asked or cared.”

  Her parents’ eyes flitted around the room as if the perfect parental comeback hung somewhere on the wall.

  “I had a lot of time to think about things this week. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, Mom, that you’re doing better. I kept praying”—her voice caught as she glanced down at her little sister, who was still clutching her tightly— “for you and for Kerry . . . but Dad, Mom, you’ve left me on my own for so long. You can’t get lost again, forgetting about us . . . we need you.”

  Her eyes filled at the sight of their blank expressions. Would anything she said get through to them? She looked down, feeling the warmth emanating from Kerry. She tapped her little sister’s nose lightly and got a smile.

  “All right . . . where did you work this summer?” her father said.

  “The Candy House.” Hannah grinned. “We got to try everything.”

  “Humph,” her mother grunted, swatting at the air. “All that sugar . . . not good for your sk—”

  “Stop,” Hannah commanded, holding up her hand. “My skin, my hair, my clothes . . . you know what, guys? It’s hard enough to feel like I don’t belong with the kids at school. No matter what I do, I’ll never fit in there,” she said, trying to stave off the lump forming in her throat. Her vision blurred as she pulled Kerry closer. “It’s worse, though, when you don’t fit in at home.”

  Her heart sank as she watched her father press his lips together, her mother cover hers with her first two fingers. Feeling like all of her clothes had fallen to the floor, Hannah lowered her head and crossed an arm over her chest. Her shoulders trembled. Still, Kerry didn’t let go of her.

  “You’re our daughter,” her father said slowly, “and, apparently, the glue around here.” He cleared his throat. “You’re smart . . . and beautiful . . . and you make us proud. Well, most days,” he added as her mother nodded toward him.

  A startled laugh escaped Hannah’s lips. This was not the response she’d expected.

  “I love you, Hannah,” Kerry piped up.

  She rubbed the top of her little sister’s head. “I love you too, Kerry.”

  CHAPTER 52

  TOBY OPENED THE BATHROOM DOOR, SENDING HIS shower steam billowing into the room. Dressed in just a towel, he wiped the hotel mirror and peered at his face briefly. He glanced back at Deacon, stretched out on the bed.

  “You haven’t moved since we got back here. What’s up?”

  “No beeper, no problems. I’m still dead around here, remember?” Deacon said flatly, his eyes half closed.

  “Dude?”

  Deacon pushed in his temples with his fingers. “Our fucking father . . . Babette. I keep replaying it in my head what they did. Like an ass, I thought they would care that I was alive. That things would be different, you know? Most normal parents would. But they used me, then just wanted me out of the way.”

  “Don’t, man. They’re not worth it. Besides, you’re finally free!”

  “Yeah, free. Whatever that means.”

  “Hannah call?”

  Deacon shook his head.

  Toby threw on clothes and combed his hair with his fingers. He stood in front of the TV and started flipping through the channels.

  “You’re hogging the set again,” Deacon said.

  Toby fell onto the club chair next to the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. “It’s not like I’m used to sharing.”

  “Me neither. Anyway, we should go.” Deacon lifted himself to his elbows.

  “Where?”

  “I have a bunch of cash stashed all over this town. We’re going to need it.”

  “I thought you weren’t going back to dealing.”

  “Hell no. But what are we going to live on?”

  Toby smiled and grabbed his keys and wallet from the bureau. He lifted his chin and threaded the arm of his Ray Bans through his collar. “I can’t wait to see people’s faces when they realize you’re alive.”

  Deacon cocked his head back. “Who cares? The important people already know.” He flipped down his Carrera glasses from his head to the bridge of his nose and started ticking off a list with his fingers. “Here’s the order: get food, fix the hair, figure out what to do with the rest of our lives . . .”

  “I’ve kind of gotten used to your ridiculous blond hair.” Toby said laughing—then winced when Deacon punched him in the shoulder. “Dude, that hurt!”

  CHAPTER 53

  “YOU’RE MY MARY,” KERRY ANNOUNCED, LAYING HER head on her sister. Sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, the Zandana sisters sat cross-legged on the couch watching another episode of Little House on the Prairie.

  “Okay, Half Pint.” Hannah smirked as she used the nickname of the younger sister on the show. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and nudged Kerry. “How was camp and staying at Gamma Mimi’s? That had to be fun.”

  “Ugh, her house smells like pee,” Kerry said, pushing up the tip of her nose so it resembled a pig’s.

  Hannah laughed. “It sure does. I always hated going there. She’s always judging people, that woman. I don’t think she ever approved of me, giving me the stink eye all of the time. Poor Dad. Guess that’s where he gets it.”

  Kerry sighed and leaned her head again. After a moment she asked, “Do you think Mommy is going to get better?”

  “I think so . . . I can tell that she’s really trying this time. It’s got to be hard for her. Like they said in our last family counseling session, recovery is a one-day-at-a-time process. In Mom’s case, she could be trying to just get through the next hour.”

  Kerry’s shoulders sank a little. Hannah reached around and squeezed her into her side.

  “But don’t worry. We, Zandana sisters, we’ll stick together. Now that I’m not working, we should have more time to hang out.”

  “You’re going to be home more? What about your boyfriend . . . not Peter, the one before?”

  “What? How do you know about him?”

  “Mom and Dad used to talk about him . . . they worried about you dating him.”

  “They did? Hmm, I didn’t know they knew—”

  “He got hurt in the park, right? Dad said something to Mom when we were in the hospital.”

  “He did?” Maybe they do care, she thought.

  Kerry hopped up and raised the volume on the TV.

  Hannah yawned and stretched her arms overhead, flexing her socked feet over the coffee table. “I don’t know what’s going to happen there.”

  “Wait, this is the good part,” Kerry interrupted. “Laura tells her fiancé, Manley, that she loves him, but she will never obey him. She tells him that she doesn’t want their marriage vows to include the word ‘obey.’”

  “Atta girl, Half Pint.”

  CHAPTER 54

  DEACON CRADLED THE PHONE NEXT TO HIS EAR, LISTENING to the Feds shout at him on speakerphone from one of their undisclosed locations. He
imagined Kodak eating a hot dog or two as Eastman chain-smoked. A few minutes in and their disgusting noises gave them away; that was exactly what they were doing.

  He leaned back on the couch in the second-floor apartment he shared with Toby, peering at the water outside his living room. Two TVs sat side by side across from him, facing two identical couches. Neither only child had mastered the art of sharing yet.

  They’d picked the place because of the view. For Deacon, it was just what he needed. The serenity of the lake calmed him, just as the water used to when he swam competitively. No longer did he want it to swallow him up. If anything, he longed to float on it for a while and see where it carried him.

  Contemplating the lake’s calm surface had become his therapy, his way of making sense of his life’s dangerous detours while also dreaming of a new road ahead. Some days he fared better than others.

  On late-night walks around the lake, he found himself talking to Paul a lot. It comforted him to have someone up there like him on his side.

  He heard Kodak cough up a wad of hot dog. Deacon jumped at his chance to interject. “Got it. I won’t speak of it again. Never met the dream team of Eastman and Kodak before in my life. Trust me. I won’t be reliving those days anytime soon. Yeah. And the news story you planted about the Miami police taking out Xavier Coyne was appreciated. I hope it works. But what about the cartel, any signs of Chalfont?”

  Outside a blue heron with a long beak and curved wings took off from the lake. He watched it soar over the treetops and disappear into the clouds.

  “Yeah, I know. I was hoping you were going to tell me you had him and the familia in custody. I guess ‘on the run’ will have to do.” Deacon switched the phone to his other ear. “One more thing . . . and it’s my only request in exchange for my guaranteed silence. Yeah. I want Thomas’s record cleared of any wrongdoing. What was recorded in Massachusetts . . . erased. It never happened. Good. Also tell him,”—his throat tightened, catching him off guard—“tell him redo. He’ll know.”