Perfect Paige

by Ines Saint

  The room held magic in memories, but something was gone and she didn’t even know what it was. Or whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. She sat there a long time, just staring at the black-and-white composition book, incapable of thought. Finally she got up, feeling heavier, but no wiser than when she’d sat down.

  She was in her master bedroom closet, feeling as if she was in some stranger’s space, picking out a few tennis shoes for work, when she heard voices. As she tiptoed her way to the bedroom door, Glenn’s voice reached her. Along with a woman’s voice. Her fingers strangled the doorknob. Wasn’t he supposed to be at the zoo with the kids?

  The voices got closer. She ran back inside the closet, shut the door, and hid behind one of Glenn’s long winter coats, her breathing shallow, her heart pounding.

  They entered the room. Talking stopped. Moaning and sighs took over. And then, “Seriously, Glenn? Isn’t this kind of, like, I don’t know, nasty? This is where you used to sleep with her. Why are we even here?” It was Jasmine. Paige fisted her hands so hard her nails dug into her skin. Her impulse was to run out and tell them both what she thought of them. But no. Showing those two any emotion would be too humiliating. Almost as humiliating as hiding in a closet behind a coat while they did whatever it was they were going to do on her old bed.

  “I told you—I’m still working everything out with the inept assholes over at the FBI. I don’t have many choices right now, but it’ll all be over soon,” Glenn said.

  “You keep promising it’ll all be over with and everything will go back to the way it was, except with your loser wife finally dumped, but it’s taking forever. We haven’t been to a nice hotel or on a getaway in months. You said you had something for me, and then you bring me here, to her room.”

  Wow. As sickened as she was, there was a measure of satisfaction in hearing how whiny and cloying Jasmine sounded.

  “I do have something for you,” he murmured. “I’ve got something for you right here . . .”

  Ugh!

  The moaning became deeper, the sighs louder, and Paige’s skin crawled. The scent of Glenn’s cologne on his coat didn’t help. “You know,” Jasmine breathed, “we should do it on your old bed. My mom used to compare me with her all the time. Saying how she knew how to work hard, and how I could learn from her. God, I hated her. It would serve her right.”

  There was a pause. “So we’re both trying to get back at her for . . . what? Working hard? Trying to do her best?” A heavy sigh followed. Was Glenn actually sticking up for her? “Let’s not make this about her, okay? Let’s just go to the guest bedroom.” Jasmine complained again, but they finally left the room.

  When she felt it was safe to leave, she fled, as fast as the tips of her toes could take her, and ran down the hill to the preserve in the pouring rain, not wanting to open her grandmother’s umbrella. It was too big and would be more visible than she alone would be.

  When she got to the car, she started it up and peeled out of there.

  Ten miles later, the car began to slow down, right in the middle of a busy road. Paige maneuvered to the shoulder, rolled to a stop, and looked at the gauges. Everything appeared to be fine. The gas tank was supposed to be full. Come to think of it, the needle had been full from the moment she’d gotten into the car. That couldn’t be right. She’d driven seventy miles.

  Paige hit her head on the steering wheel. Could this day get any worse?

  At least she had roadside assistance. She called. They told her there was flooding in the region, they were backed up, and the soonest they could be there was in two hours.

  She blew out a breath. The nearest gas station was a little less than a mile away. It would be a wet, uncomfortable, and humbling walk.

  On her way back, Glenn called. Glenn, who was supposed to be with the kids at the zoo. She gritted her teeth. “What?” she answered.

  “Paige?”

  “What?”

  “I can barely hear you.”

  “You don’t have to hear me!” she yelled into the phone. It felt good. “You called me—you talk!”

  “Uh . . . Yeah. I just—I wanted to say I’m sorry for everything I said yesterday.”

  Paige stopped short. Cars zipped by. Rainwater splashed onto her legs. Glenn wanted to apologize. Right. She wondered if he was still at home. If Jasmine was still there.

  She continued to walk, holding a container full of gas and a bag with trash bags she’d bought in one hand, her umbrella with the other, while pressing the phone down on her shoulder using her ear.

  When she didn’t answer, he continued. “You’re right when you say the kids should come first. And all I want is to co-parent amicably. You don’t have to file a restraining order against me. That will only cause tension, and that’s the last thing the kids need.”

  Restraining order. He was worried. Now they were getting somewhere. “Are you still there?” he asked.

  She reached the car, put everything inside, and covered the passenger seat and the floor with a few trash bags so she wouldn’t ruin her grandmother’s seats and carpet with her soggy, sorry self. “Yes.”

  There was a pause before he continued. “The only reason I yelled at you is because I still have feelings for you. It’s only natural, and I’m concerned about you. I hate that the FBI is using you. That’s all. And I really hate that they’re using our kids. That’s so wrong. I wish you wouldn’t allow it. But I know you love the kids more than anything. I know that’s why you put up with me for so long. And I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  Charlene had to have called him right after she’d seen her and Alex pretending to kiss. Of that she had no doubt. Glenn must’ve been pissed . . . bringing Jasmine into their bedroom might even have been his way of getting back at her. Because he knew if he insulted her again, she’d make good on her threat, and use the proof she had of his verbal assault to file a restraining order against him. So the fake embrace had yielded something. Proof, in her mind, that Glenn needed access to town.

  The phone call was an attempt to make nice while pulling her easily guilted mommy strings to get rid of Alex. That’s all there was to this call. He’d held off from sleeping with Jasmine on their old bed, and had at least admitted to Jasmine that they were both taking their frustrations out on her. But that didn’t mean he was truly sorry for the things he’d said. His voice now told a different story.

  What to do next was not clear. She could pretend to believe him, to want to help him, and then try to glean information ultimately meant to keep his butt out of jail. But that might not work, and it would shred what little was left of their relationship.

  Paige closed her eyes. There had never been a “bad guy” in her life. There had been her mom, battling alcoholism and depression, and her devoted, but increasingly discouraged father. “I thought you were supposed to be at the zoo with the kids,” she couldn’t stop herself from grousing.

  “I was. But it’s raining buckets.”

  It was raining buckets. Her dripping, weary body knew this. Yet it hadn’t occurred to her that it would have kept them from the zoo. That’s how tired and muddled she felt. Still, he wasn’t with them. If he planned on leaving them with her toxic in-laws while he cavorted with Jasmine, she might as well file for full custody and have them with her always. She ached for them enough as it was. They used to be with her always, and now, every other weekend, they were away from her. It gutted her every time.

  “Where are they now?” she asked, trying hard to keep the accusation out of her voice. This was the first time he’d called her since he’d asked for a divorce. She wanted to yell at him and tell him she knew what he’d been doing. But all he’d do would be to hang up, and she wanted to know where her kids were.

  He blew out a breath. He sounded as caged as she felt. “We were having fun, playing board games all morning, but then Dad broke out The Game of Life, as he still calls it, and it turned into a new mind game, with me. A chance for him to teach the kids lessons while sticking
it to me.” A pause. “Every instruction concocted and measured. You know how he is. I had to get away for a while, but I’m on my way back now. I miss seeing them every day, Paige, and I want this to be over with, too. So I can see them in my own place, and away from my parents. I hate the way things are.” His tone had changed. He was speaking the truth now. He was being sincere.

  In her heart of hearts, she knew he did miss the kids. That was one thing they’d always had in common. Both had wanted badly to get things right with them. What that meant to him, though, was entirely different from what it had meant to her. He would never pressure them or belittle them the way his dad had done to him. But that wasn’t enough. They’d both messed up, but she hadn’t engaged in criminal behavior or taken up with someone else the moment things felt dark inside.

  When she didn’t say anything, he continued, his emotions, as usual, getting the better of him. “I wish you’d say something. You always use that tight, accusing voice on me, and then you hold everything you’re really thinking in, as if you’re too good to get mad. And look how good you’ve proven to be. The federal agent in charge of my case is living next door to my kids with your blessing. How do you think that will affect them?”

  She opened her eyes at that. “Have you told them who he is?”

  “Not yet. I’m giving you a chance to get rid of him. I don’t want Riley to hate her mom.”

  She schooled her voice, so it wouldn’t sound tight or accusing, although she felt both. He’d gotten them into this mess! The truth, sans blame. It was nearly impossible. “I can’t get rid of him, Glenn. He’s after Dr. Kumar’s journal. Grandma Sherry believes his motives. And I know you think I’m an idiot, and I know you don’t believe it, but I believe he’s not actively seeking to lock you up. I’m cooperating and believing him because I think it’s the best thing for all of us.”

  “You believe fawning all over him is the best thing for all of us?”

  Her patience snapped. “You got us into this mess, Glenn! How is it you find it so damn easy to forget that! The FBI doesn’t want you, they want the masterminds, or whatever you call them! And I believe them! If you would just tell everyone where the damn thing is, this would all be over! It’s up to you! All I’m doing is trying to get us all out of it the only way I’m being allowed to.”

  He then accused her of something so nasty, and in such filthy language, she lost it. “Enough! I’m filing the restraining order—”

  “I’m sorry! Damn it, Paige. Forget it! I thought we could talk. I thought I could make you see you need to believe me and let me handle this my way!”

  “Because you’ve been so truthful and handled everything so well so far?” she demanded. Never in all her life had she ever felt so exasperated and let down by another person. Not even her mom had made her feel this way when she’d been at her worst. “Just leave the kids out of this, Glenn. Say one word to them, and I’ll follow through with the restraining order without a word to you. I’ll just do it. I mean it. Don’t use them.”

  “I’m not the one using them. But fine. I won’t tell them there’s a snake living right next door to them. You win. You happy?”

  Click.

  * * *

  “Sorry you’re having to come out on a weekend,” Alex said to Jerome and Boyd.

  “Part of the job. Besides, I’m coaching soccer. I need to get out early every day next week if I can.” Boyd turned to look at him. “Now, what was this about a kiss?”

  “Pretend. I pretended to kiss Paige. Glenn’s best friend’s wife was there. We thought it would lead to a precipitating event.”

  Jerome grinned. “For whom?”

  Alex shot him a look before turning to face front again. “The woman was looking up, we saw an opportunity, and we took it.”

  “We?” Boyd asked.

  “It was a mutual decision.”

  With that, he left, tired of talking and thinking about Paige Galloway.

  Twenty minutes later, he was knocking on Hope’s door. A shadow crossed the peephole. No answer. Annoyed, he pounded.

  The door flung open. “I’m working on a report. What do you want?” she ground out.

  He eyed her coolly. “Paige said she was running downtown for a drug test. She’s not here yet, and she wasn’t with your grandmother. It’s been six hours.”

  Hope folded her arms and leaned against the doorway. “So?”

  Alex thought what he’d said would be enough to get Hope to wonder where her sister was. He’d just happened to notice she hadn’t gotten home yet.

  “I thought you’d be concerned.”

  “I’m not. Are you?”

  “No. A big part of my job is to observe. I observed she wasn’t home yet and thought you might like to know.”

  “Thank you. But I also have powers of observation, and I didn’t even need years of FBI training to acquire them. And my observations tell me that Paige is a grown woman who can take care of herself. I’m surprised you didn’t observe that yourself this morning while you were mauling her. She needed a kick in the ass, sure, and I was happy to give it to her, but now she’s pulled her big girl panties back up and is on her way to taking care of herself and her kids. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  There was nothing he could say to that, and she shut the door in his face anyway.

  He climbed back upstairs to change. The day had been hot and muggy, and he was sick of his suit and tie. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, got his laptop out, and went to work on the dining room table, which was in the front of the apartment and allowed him to look out onto the street. He fired it up and opened up a few documents, but his mind was too busy trying to figure out why the hell he was worried about Paige to pay much attention. It bugged him that he wanted to know if she was okay. There was no reason for her not to be. It was late summer, the days were long, and the sun wouldn’t set for an hour.

  And it wasn’t like he thought she was lying in a ditch somewhere. He didn’t.

  For all anyone knew, she was out blowing off steam with friends, running errands related to her new job. Her kids were with their dad, and if her grandmother and sister didn’t feel the need to keep tabs on her, why the hell did he?

  From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d resented her very being. Try-hard, Riley had said. That was it. She’d looked like she was trying so damn hard to be good and do good. Why should he resent that?

  He heard a car and looked outside again. It wasn’t her. An image of her big blue eyes came to the forefront of his mind. Whatever he’d resented about her, the truth was he didn’t resent her anymore. He’d seen those eyes harbor more emotions and thoughts than he’d ever seen in one person, and he’d seen enough to become as desensitized as the job required him to be. The first look he now knew to be a studied emptiness—to protect herself, and then blazing anger when he’d handcuffed her, vulnerability when he’d gone through her kids’ things, that studied emptiness when they’d met again, and then defeat, calculations, strength-gathering, resolve, understanding, love . . .

  Love. She was raising good kids. It was obvious Riley was mad at her mom, and yet, at seven years of age, she had enough control over her emotions to stop herself from hurting someone else. They didn’t respond to her cues like monkeys. They were their own little persons. She was doing her best with them.

  That’s what was getting to him. Despite everything he’d thought, he’d learned one simple truth. Paige did her best with what she had. From when she’d had nothing, to when she’d had a lot, and now again when she’d lost it all. And not only in effort, but with her feelings, too. It was there mostly when the best didn’t live up to her own expectations. Like when she’d been pushed into threatening Glenn.

  And earlier that day, her body had reacted to him, those eyes had filled with desire, and she hadn’t been happy about it. He’d reacted to her, too. And he also wasn’t happy about it.

  A car swished to a stop and he looked out. It was her.

  She got o
ut, and she looked like one hot mess. Her hair and clothes looked damp, her tennis shoes were muddy, and even her legs were splattered with mud. She leaned in and took garbage bags off the seat and the carpet of the car, as if keeping her grandmother’s car clean was somehow important when she looked like she’d been dragged ten miles through rain and mud herself.

  He went to grab a large towel. Two thoughts entered his head. One, it hadn’t been raining. Not in Dayton, anyway. Two, she probably didn’t want his stupid towel. Still, he went out to meet her.

  By the time he got out to the landing, she was inside. She looked up. Their eyes met. For some reason, he knew she’d prefer it if he showed no sympathy for the state she was in. “Catch,” he called, throwing the towel over the banister. “I heard a car pulling up and looked out. You look like you could use a towel.”

  “Did you accomplish anything today, Agent Hooke?” she asked, as she made her way up the stairs. She’d caught the towel, but she wasn’t using it. It was draped in the crook of her arm.

  So they were back to “Agent Hooke.” When she’d tempted him to come closer that morning, she’d called him Alex. Again, at the thought, his body reacted in a completely unsuitable way. He wished he could call up on his responsibility to the case, and ask her where she’d been, in case it was relevant. But the only other feeling he could reach was concern. It was right there, on the surface, refusing to be put away. “We didn’t find anything at Rosa’s. Did Glenn call?” And did he treat you badly? Should I pummel him, or arrest him, and make sure he never hurts you again? Did you drive over to where he was to talk to him? Is that why you’re wet? He gripped the banister, anxious for a response to all those things he shouldn’t say or ask.

  “Yes. And you’re right. Whatever he’s hiding is here in Spinning Hills.”

  Alex straightened. “Why? What did he say?”

  She reached the top. Up close he could see dirt was streaking her face, too, as if she’d cried. Through all of it, he realized he hadn’t once seen her cry. Not when she’d rolled down the hill and onto a sidewalk with a six-foot, two-inch, two-hundred-and-forty-pound male on top of her. Not when he’d handcuffed her, and not even when he’d callously confronted her with evidence of Glenn’s misdeeds and infidelity. “Not much. Just that he was sorry and I don’t have to file a restraining order, and that he was only angry because he’s worried about you using me. That’s it.” She threw the towel at him. “I’m going to take a shower now.”