We All Fall Down (Of Love and Madness Book 2)

by Karen Cimms

  She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip. “Hmm.” Surprised, she looked at Joey, who pointed at Tommy.

  “Cinnamon,” Tommy said.

  “Nice.” Actually, it was perfect. “How am I doing? I don’t know. Kinda numb, worn out. I slept, yet I feel so tired.”

  She took another bracing sip, then zeroed in on Tommy. “Do I want to know how bad it is?”

  He toyed with the mug in front of him. “I don’t really know yet. I’ve read the affidavit, and I’ve got some questions. I haven’t spoken to Billy, of course, but there are a few things that don’t make sense.”

  She listened and nodded.

  “Just keep in mind what I said about getting Doug’s firm involved.”

  She started to protest.

  “I know you don’t want him in the middle, but his firm has more experience with this stuff. And to be honest, it might get expensive. You know I’d do my best, but my dad owns our firm as well, and Billy isn’t my father-in-law.”

  “I say put him in jail and throw away the key.” Joey’s response to Kate’s glare was all wide-eyed innocence. “What?”

  With a frown and a subtle shake of his head, Tom rose.

  “I made an omelet, Kate. Let me get it, and then I have to head home and shower. We have a family picnic this afternoon. Stephanie will be wondering what happened to me.”

  “Yeah,” Joey muttered, “the family’s coming.”

  The screen door slammed shut, and Kate poked him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” He flashed a toothy smile. “It’s the heat. Makes me cranky.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Joey played with the remnants of his breakfast, making a face with scraps of egg, adding eyes and a mouth with a couple of drops of ketchup. When he fashioned a hat for his creation out of what was left of his toast, she knew he was avoiding something.

  “Joey?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why are you sitting on the newspaper?”

  He gave his ear a scratch. “What?”

  “You’re sitting on the newspaper.”

  “I am?”

  He was a terrible actor and a worse liar.

  “Yes. Why are you sitting on the newspaper?”

  “Um, I didn’t want to get my khakis dirty?”

  “Let me see.”

  He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “It’s just full of bad news. Nothing you’d want to see.”

  She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He lifted a cheek so she could tug the newspaper out from under him.

  She stared at the headline and gasped: SUSPECT HELD IN MOVIE MASSACRE

  “Oh my God. When did this happen?”

  Looking confused, Joey followed her gaze.

  “Oh, crap. You didn’t know about that, did you?”

  She’d been so wrapped up in her own nightmare, she’d had no idea.

  “Some nutcase burst into a movie theater and started shooting,” he explained. “Killed about a dozen people and wounded a lot more. This shit is getting ridiculous. As far as I’m concerned, they can take all the guns and pitch them into the ocean.”

  “Do they know why?” Kate stared at the print, seeing nothing beyond the headline and the picture on the front page.

  “Who knows?”

  The carnage made her sick to her stomach. “The world’s a pretty scary place sometimes.”

  The screen door swung open and Tom reappeared, carrying a tray with Kate’s omelet, a cloth napkin, silverware, a small bowl of ketchup, and a glass of orange juice.

  “Wow. If this is the kind of service your firm delivers, you can bail my husband out of jail any time.”

  “That’s not even funny,” Joey said.

  “I know.” Kate set the paper down and forced a smile. “But hey, I just got two weeks off for bad behavior—not mine, but still.”

  She caught the pointed look Tom gave Joey.

  “I thought you weren’t going to let her see the paper.”

  “I didn’t,” Joey said, his teeth clenched. “She took it.”

  “I knew it.” Kate dropped her fork and snatched up the paper. She’d been so distracted by the front page she hadn’t looked inside.

  Joey tried to grab it, but she was too quick.

  “Page three?” she moaned. “I’d hoped it would have been buried in the back.”

  At the top of the page was a three-column color picture of Billy in handcuffs, being led to an awaiting squad car. She slumped forward and pushed her plate away.

  “What I don’t understand is how they got a picture,” Joey said.

  “Cell phones,” Kate and Tom answered at the same time. She nodded while Tom continued.

  “Everybody has a cell phone. If they see anything they think is newsworthy, they take a picture. Somebody at the bar recognized him.”

  “I guess that settles it.” Kate folded the paper and set it beside her plate. “If I can figure out what to do with Charlie, I just might take you up on your offer.”

  “Good,” Joey stood. “The faster I get out of this town, the better. Eat!”

  “I’ll take Charlie,” Tom offered.

  Joey let out a sharp laugh. “I don’t think Stephanie’s going to be too happy about that.”

  Kate reached under the table to pat Charlie, who was panting near her feet. “Aww, he’s just a puppy.”

  “He’s not a puppy,” Joey said. “He’s nuts.”

  “Maybe a little nuts. He’s mellow now because of the heat. He’s a good boy, but he can be bit of a handful.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Tom assured her. “It’s about time I took a stand for something in my house.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Can you fucking believe this?” Rhiannon threw the New York Post on the breakfast table.

  Doug shot her a warning look over his copy of The New York Times. The twins sat in high chairs on either side of her.

  “Like they know what that means,” she snapped.

  Doug folded his paper and set it down in front of him. “Believe what?”

  “Page Six.” She tapped her finger on the article. Before he could see what she was pointing at, she yanked the newspaper back and read it aloud.

  “Under the Sightings column,” she explained. “‘Stylist Joey Buccacino squires a mysterious, dark-haired beauty to a quiet table at RSVP in the Village. Word on the street? It’s best gal pal Kate McDonald, wife of bad-boy rocker Billy McDonald, late of Stonestreet and the Andrewsville City Jail.’”

  She flashed the paper at him. “There’s even a picture. My father’s here, eating his heart out, and she’s partying all over New York with Uncle Joey.”

  Doug leaned over to look at the blurb and photo. “That’s your mother all right—dressed head to toe in black and wearing dark glasses that cover half her face. She looks like she’s going to a funeral. The article says ‘a quiet table at RSVP.’ Sounds like they went to dinner, Rhiannon, not a rave.”

  She hated when he was so condescending.

  “And your father may be eating his heart out, but it’s the ‘drowning his sorrow’ part that concerns me. You promised you’d speak to him about that.”

  Rhiannon stared back in stony silence.

  “If I know your mother, she’s not partying,” he continued. “Joey’s probably dragging her out, trying to get her mind off what happened. She needs a break, Rhiannon. I’m sure once she and your father each get some perspective, they’ll be able to work things out.”

  He shoveled a bite of egg white and spinach omelet into his mouth, then pushed the plate away. “Besides, I’ve never seen two people more in love than your parents, in spite of their issues.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” She slammed her blueberry, avocado, and spirulina detox smoothie onto the table. Black liquid splattered onto her mother’s picture. “You don’t think we’re in love?”

  “I didn’t say that. And now I’m
leaving.” He rose from the table and kissed the tops of the two little blond heads, avoiding the sticky fingers that reached for him. Then because he was a very smart man who knew how to push her buttons, he pulled her to her feet and grabbed her around the waist, bent her over backward, and kissed her until she went limp in his arms.

  “Better,” she said, staggering when he let go.

  “Good.” He slapped her on the ass with his folded newspaper and called over his shoulder on his way out. “Talk to your father.”

  “This is just great.” Kate tossed the Post on the table between the two deck chairs in Joey’s rooftop garden. “I was supposed to stay out of the news.”

  “Oh, relax.” Joey tilted his head toward the sun. “If they fire you, you can come live with me.”

  Ten blocks away, the Freedom Tower loomed over his Tribeca loft and lower Manhattan. As impressive as all this was, it wasn’t home.

  “I can’t. Even if they fire me.”

  Joey lowered his Prada sunglasses. “Why not?”

  “Because I have a life, Joey, and it’s not in New York.”

  “You’re taking him back, aren’t you?”

  Yes?

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t I at least try to make it work?”

  “What the hell have you been doing all these years?” he demanded. “You’ve been trying too hard for too long, and you have the footprints all over you to prove it.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “No?” he snorted. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “Joey, you can’t understand. You’ve never really been in love. If you had, you’d understand that sometimes there are sacrifices you need to make or things you must do even if you don’t want to because you love this other person. Billy is . . . complicated.”

  It was hard to defend Billy, even to her best friend, when she was unable to explain his past without betraying him. She knew so little of it herself, but what she did know was not her story to tell.

  “You don’t know what his life was like—”

  “I call bullshit, Kate.” Gripping the sides of his chair, Joey leaned forward. “You keep giving him a free pass because of his past. Well, you know what? Who didn’t have a shitty past? And when is enough enough? He’s been with you longer than he lived that mysterious past. Shouldn’t he have gotten over it by now?” He threw himself back and turned away, chewing on the pad of his thumb.

  “Why do you hate him so much?”

  Joey seemed to be composing himself. He cocked his head toward her. “I don’t hate him.”

  “I know you say that, but there are times—like now—I don’t think I believe you.”

  He lifted his wineglass and stared into its depths. “I don’t hate him,” he repeated, his tone softer this time. “It’s just . . . You deserve so much more, Kate. You deserve someone who loves you and who would never—”

  A horn blared from seven floors below them.

  “Never what?”

  Joey shook his head. “Nothing. Someone who would never be an ass, that’s what.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty rare quality in a human being, isn’t it?” She chuckled. “I mean, let he amongst us who has never been an ass cast the first stone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. And I also know that Billy, regardless of his faults—and I am fully aware of them, all of them—loves me. I’d bet anything his substance abuse issues are triggered by his past. It doesn’t help that he works in an industry that dispenses pills and cocaine like breath mints. Trust me, Joey, I’m not okay with what he did, but he usually has it under control. I don’t know what happened this time, but I do know I didn’t even give him a chance to explain.”

  She ignored the face he made.

  “And you need to remember I’ve never had a strong sense of self, yet he’s loved me with all my flaws. My childhood left a lot to be desired, but he had it much harder. Maybe that’s why I’ve always let him slide. I admit I’m an enabler, and that hasn’t done either of us any good. I need to go home and talk to him, put my foot down. Tell him if he gets help and gets sober, then we can work on it.”

  She wanted him to agree with her.

  “How much do you love him?” Joey tugged his glasses down to reveal his eyes. “Honestly. How much?”

  She answered without hesitation. “I love him so much, I believe I would die without him.”

  Her shoulders lifted in surrender, and she steeled herself for his recriminations.

  Instead, he surprised her with a smile. “So what you’re telling me is that if you really love someone, there may be times when you’ll have to do something you don’t want in order to make that person happy, because in the long run, it will be the best for both of you?”

  She couldn’t leave Billy. She was angry and hurt, but it would be easier to cut her heart out and try to live without it than to live without him.

  “I think so.”

  The edges of Joey’s lips curled. “Maybe I do understand.”

  “Finally! It’s only taken you . . .”

  The smile on his face expanded, as the realization of what he was saying seeped in. “Joey. Do you mean there’s someone—”

  “Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

  “But—”

  He shook his head and waved his arms dramatically, as if magically erasing what he just said.

  “So, Saturday,” he said, clumsily changing the subject. “I think Saturday morning, you might want to pack your stuff and get the hell out of here.” He took her hand and squeezed. “You have a lot of work to do.”

  Yeah. She did.

  He stood. “That’s settled, then. How about we order in, since you’re intent not to make Page Six two days in a row and I’m the most interesting thing in the city this summer since everyone else is in the Hamptons.”

  She laughed and nodded.

  “How about sushi?”

  “How about not?”

  “Good thing you don’t live here. You’d never survive.”

  “True,” she agreed. “I’d cook, but your cabinets are empty. You don’t even have salt and pepper.”

  “That’s because this is New York, I don’t cook, and I want sushi,” he said. “Go online and see what Takahachi has that you’ll eat, then order what you want and get me the sushi and sashimi platter. I’m gonna take a quick shower, and then I’ll take a walk and pick it up. And if you want to make a phone call while I’m gone, feel free.”

  Kate opened his laptop. “When did you become so understanding, or are you really and truly finally in love?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The little grin he tried to hide gave him away. “And don’t forget, you’re my date for that restaurant opening Friday night. Some Texas thing. Huge slabs of meat—right up your alley. I’ll get you a blond wig, and we’ll dress you up to look like Marilyn Monroe so no one will know it’s you.”

  He gave her a wink, and she gave him the finger.

  “You’re a grandmother, you know,” he pointed out.

  She flipped him off with the other hand too.

  After Joey left to pick up dinner, Kate retrieved her cell phone. The battery was low, only about ten percent. That meant no long phone call, which could be good. She really didn’t want to get into anything with Billy over the phone. For someone who’d somehow forgotten to call her on her birthday, he’d left her a couple of dozen texts and nearly twenty voicemails. No way could this be a quick phone call. And if he sounded drunk or stoned, she’d change her mind altogether.

  Better to just go home Saturday and call him then. She still had a week off from work. That should give them some time to work on things. In the past, she’d tried talking to him about AA, but he’d always blown it off, swearing he didn’t have a problem. But after losing his gig with the band and the possibility of facing serious jail time, not to mention losing her, he might finally be ready to admit he had a problem.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Billy stood
in his kitchen and keyed Kate’s number into his phone again, and again it went straight to voicemail. He’d lost track of how many times he’d called over the past five days. She didn’t want to talk to him. She’d been pissed before, but never like this, and never for this long.

  Pissed he could deal with. But the disappointment on her face that night? That was the killer. When he’d turned and seen Katie standing there behind him—in the fucking county jail—he’d about lost it. It had been bad enough knowing he would have to tell her what he’d done, but to have her there? To have her see him being released from jail and collect his things like a fucking criminal?

  Of course he’d been angry.

  So what had he done? Slammed down his walls and made it worse. He’d taken it out on her because he’d been too ashamed to admit he was wrong and say he was sorry. He hadn’t started that damn bar fight. What was he supposed to have done? Walk away? Leave Eddie to fight off three goons by himself? It would’ve served the little fucker right for causing the fight in the first place—but still.

  He unscrewed the cap on a bottle of twenty-one-year-old Scotch. It nearly killed him, but he poured it down the drain. A dozen bottles lined the kitchen counter. Condemned prisoners all, and he was the executioner. He dumped them one by one, even Kate’s wine. If he was going to do this, there could be no survivors.

  Despair seeped in. With nothing to numb it, he had no choice but to feel it.

  He’d been sober for two days, almost. It wasn’t easy. When he’d gone to help himself to Doug’s Irish whiskey, Rhiannon had stopped him. She’d hemmed and hawed and never did get to the point, but he eventually figured out that Doug wasn’t cool with his drinking in the house, especially around the kids. He couldn’t blame him. If someone had been acting like a jackass in front of his kids, he wouldn’t have been as diplomatic.

  So after Rhiannon had taken him to town for an appointment with Tom, who’d mentioned he was dog-sitting Charlie, Billy talked her into leaving him at the house. She’d seemed more than a little relieved. Kate wasn’t home, so what difference did it make? When she came home and threw him out again, he’d deal with it then. Or not.