The Nerd Who Loved Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  And now, this phone call. She wondered if he'd gone through the phone book or if he finally had access to some of his trust fund money and had hired a private de­tective to find her. Maybe it didn't matter. What mat­tered was that he'd begged her for another chance. She was through giving him chances, but she didn't want trouble, either.

  He hadn't mentioned Dexter, hadn't even asked how he was. That didn't surprise her. When she'd told him she was pregnant, he'd wanted her to get an abortion. Practical as that might have been, she hadn't even con­sidered such a thing. She'd been a little surprised at her strong protective instincts, because she hadn't thought she wanted a baby, but Joey's suggestion had horrified her, and she'd said so.

  She could still hear his reply: Don't make the mistake of thinking I'll marry you, sweetheart.

  With that statement, he'd killed any remaining affec­tion she'd had for him. Don't make the mistake of think­ing I'd have you, she'd thrown out before turning on her heel. The relationship had gone downhill after that. But for Dexter's sake, she'd tried to keep things halfway civil. She believed kids should know both their parents if at all possible, and she'd hoped Joey would warm to the idea of being a father.

  Instead, his drinking had become worse and he'd started to scare Dexter with his loud voice and threaten­ing gestures. She'd had to rethink her strategy.

  The dressing room door opened. "On stage for 'Fever,'" called Tim, the stage manager.

  Lainie hurried out with the rest of the ensemble.

  "Where's your accountant been keeping himself?" asked a blonde named Gina as they filed onto the cur­tained stage during the intro.

  "He's not exactly mine."

  "Sure he is. He never takes his eyes off you, and he's been at that back table almost every night, except just recently. I wonder if he's sick or something."

  Lainie shrugged. Explaining that Harry was home watching Dexter would start all kinds of rumors, and she didn't need rumors right now, not with Joey popping up again. Besides, Harry might not want anybody to know he was babysitting. Although he seemed to have a crush on her, he'd never asked her out, and he'd had plenty of chances.

  Harry might be shy. She certainly hoped that was the problem. Unfortunately, shyness might not be it. He could be like a lot of guys—including Joey—who thought showgirls were exciting but not the sort of woman they'd take home to Momma.

  Lainie would hate to find that out about Harry, because he seemed nicer than most, but the evidence was there. She wouldn't go out with him, of course, but he didn't know that. She wouldn't have minded being asked, for the record.

  "Curtain," Tim murmured from the wings.

  Lainie smiled automatically, gratefully. As always, when the curtain swished open, it swept her worries into the wings where they belonged. For the few minutes of the number, nothing existed but the joy of moving to the music, feeling the energy of the audience, taking the rhythm into every cell of her body.

  How she loved this! Dancing before a live audience gave her a thrill greater than sex, which was a good thing, because she wasn't getting a smidgen of sex these days, unless she counted solo sessions with her vibrator. She'd created quite a fantasy life for herself during those sessions. Recently, because there was a rebellious streak in her, she'd thrust Harry, so to speak, into the role of her fantasy lover. Wouldn't he be surprised.

  Harry had a much greater appreciation of monkeys as he hugged the tree branch and scrambled for footing on the tree limb. Dexter's breath rasped in his ear and the kid had reclaimed his death grip on Harry's neck, chok­ing off his wind.

  Inch by torturous inch, Harry worked his way back­ward, keeping his balance by using tiny nubs where smaller branches had been pruned. He calculated the limb was about a foot in diameter and angled to the main trunk at approximately forty-five degrees. Somebody used to this kind of thing would have no problem.

  Harry wasn't used to it. His palms stung where the rough bark had cut into his hands. His clothes scraped the tree, and he'd already popped a button off his shirt where a stubby twig had caught in the front placket.

  Through the open window he could hear Dexter's dad banging around inside the apartment. The noise sounded close, so Harry guessed that the guy was trying to get through the bedroom door.

  "Mr. Harry?" Dexter was whispering.

  Harry eased down another few inches before whis­pering back. "What?"

  "I have to go potty."

  "Hold it."

  "Okay, but I have to go really bad."

  "Do your best." Harry tried to climb down faster. He could remember being four years old and having to hold it.

  His foot connected with the crotch of the tree. Look­ing down, he judged it was about five feet to the ground. Fortunately grass grew under the tree. "Dexter, I'm throw­ing my glasses down. Watch where they go, okay?"

  "You're throwing your glasses? Why?"

  "Because we're going to jump." Harry tried to sound confident.

  "Jump? Are you really, really sure about this?"

  "Yes." He launched himself from the tree. When he felt the momentum pitching him backward, which would mean landing on top of Dexter, he kicked his feet out behind him so that he belly-flopped into the grass. Dex­ter bounced down on top, which knocked the air right out of Harry. His lungs burned as he fought to breathe. He couldn't stay here very long.

  "Mr. Harry?"

  "Hmm."

  "I can see your glasses."

  "G-good."

  "But I peed my pants."

  Chapter Two

  When she was back in the dressing room following the "Fever" number, Lainie's spirits were greatly im­proved. That particular dance routine never failed to make her feel alive. The only downside to feeling so alive was that she missed sex all the more. She didn't think it was natural for a twenty-seven-year-old woman to go this many years without an actual man in her bed.

  Her fantasies about Harry only proved that she was getting hard up for male sex symbols. Still, to be fair, he might have a decent body under those preppie clothes. Plus there was something solid and reassuring about Harry, and feeling safe with a man had become very sexy to her.

  Jack Newman was on stage next, so she and the other dancers had fifteen minutes for their costume change. Af­ter removing her elaborate headdress, Lainie took time to sip some bottled water before unfastening the front catch of her rose-petal bra.

  A sharp rap on the dressing room door prompted her to fasten it again. Some of the women didn't care who saw them naked, but Lainie was one of the more modest members of the dance troupe. When she was dancing, she threw modesty out the window, but off-stage was a different matter.

  Tim stuck his head in the dressing room door. "Lainie? Somebody to see you. Says it's real important."

  Instant panic left her shaking. She prayed Joey wasn't standing outside the dressing room door. She had trou­ble speaking and had to clear her throat. "Did you ... get his name?"

  "No, but he has a little kid with him who looks like you."

  She bolted from the dressing-room stool and nearly knocked Tim over as she barreled through the door. What if Joey has Dexter? Then she stared in confusion at the man holding Dexter's hand. "Harry? My goodness, you're a mess! What happened?"

  Dexter ran to her, and she dropped to her knees so she could grab him in a hug.

  "Daddy was banging on the door," he said. "He went bang, bang, bang, and he wanted to break it down!" He quivered in her arms.

  "Oh, my God." Gulping air, she looked over Dexter's head at Harry. He had dirt and grass stains all down the front of his clothes. His shirt was missing a button, he had dried blood on his hands, and his glasses were smudged. More startling than all that, his thick brown hair, always combed and parted perfectly, stood out in all directions. She'd never seen his hair mussed.

  "We handled it," Harry said quietly.

  Lainie clutched Dexter tighter while she held Harry's gaze. "Did you fight him? Please tell me you didn't—"

  "Mr.
Harry was just like Spider-Man, Mommy!" Dexter struggled away from her and started waving his arms as he talked. "Mr. Harry and me, we climbed out the window and down the tree! We got away in Mr. Harry's car, and I helped find his glasses, but I peed my pants, so we had to go to Target and buy me new ones." He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into the pockets of a pair of shorts Lainie had never seen before. 'They have Pooh on the pocket."

  "Very cool." Her throat closed up. She'd put her son and an unsuspecting guy in danger. She might never for­give herself for that. "I'm so sorry," she said, looking at Harry. "I had no idea that Joey would ..."

  She couldn't finish the sentence, because it wasn't true. She'd had some idea, and that would haunt her for­ever. When Joey drank, he became unpredictable, which was why she'd decided to leave. The minute he'd called yesterday, she should have quit her job and left Vegas. She'd underestimated him, glossed over the problem, tried to pretend nothing would come of his phone call.

  "His name's Joey?" Harry asked.

  "Yes. Joey Benjamin. We were never married." She felt compelled to add that last part to somehow distance herself from Joey's behavior.

  "Well, he's out of control," Harry said in a low voice.

  "I think he's been drinking beers," Dexter said. "Lots and lots of beers."

  "Probably true," Harry said. "I haven't called the po­lice, but if you think we should—"

  "No. I'd rather we didn't do that. Not yet." She thought of the spin Joey could put on things. She'd told him she was leaving for Vegas, but she hadn't asked him to sign papers giving her that right legally. And she should have, but she'd thought that might put too sharp a point on it. However, without his signature on some­thing, he could accuse her of kidnapping Dexter and taking him out of New Jersey.

  She couldn't believe Joey had suddenly become a doting father. That was totally out of character. Some­thing else was going on, and until she knew what it was, she had to be careful. Joey might have the Benjamin money behind him. She didn't want to make a wrong move that would result in losing Dexter.

  "Mommy, can I stay and see the show? I could go to bed early tomorrow night."

  "I have a better idea." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "What if I take the rest of the night off and we'll do something fun, okay?" Dexter's bedtime was the least of her worries. She had to figure out the best place to hide him until she found out what Joey wanted.

  "Like what could we do?"

  "We'll talk about it after we get in the car." Obvi­ously she couldn't go home. She calculated how much money she had in her purse and how much room was left on her credit card.

  "Can Mr. Harry come?"

  "I'm sure Mr. Harry has other things he needs to be doing."

  Harry shifted his weight. "The fact is, I—"

  "You know, I hate to ask you even one more favor, but would you please stay with Dexter for a minute while I get my things?"

  "Sure. But listen, Lainie—"

  "I'll be right back." She headed off to find Tim and located him in the wings checking out Jack Newman's routine. "Tim, something's come up."

  Tim took one look at her face and frowned. "What's the matter, kiddo?"

  "I have to leave. Right now. Family emergency. I hate to duck out like this, but—"

  "The kid's yours, isn't he?"

  "Yes. And I—"

  "Don't tell me anything more, okay? I really like you, Lainie, and if you and that kid are on the back of a milk carton, I'm sure there's a good reason for it. That aside, if the police come asking a bunch of questions, I have to tell them whatever I know. So don't give me any more info. Just take off."

  "Thanks, Tim." She hugged him and hurried back to the dressing room. Once there she grabbed her clothes off a hook and decided to cover her outfit with her purple raincoat instead of changing. She could mail the costume back to the casino once she was out of here, but right now every second counted. Joey could be on his way over.

  When she came back out, she smiled in spite of her­self. Harry had crouched down in front of Dexter, and Dexter had crouched down, too, in imitation. So there they were, both hunkered down face-to-face in deep con­versation. Her smile faded as guilt set in. Besides Joey, Harry was the first man Dexter had spent any quality time with, and Dexter seemed to be lapping up the attention.

  She would be forever grateful to Harry, both for being a friend to Dexter and saving him from Joey at great risk to himself. Unfortunately, she might never see Harry again, which meant she'd have no way of repaying him.

  Knowing that, she wondered what on earth she could say to him now. Words seemed so useless. She wanted to do something nice for him, but nothing could be done under the circumstances.

  As she approached, she heard them talking about queens and rooks, which meant they were discussing chess. For the past two days Dexter had talked of noth­ing else. Now that he'd be losing his new chess partner, she'd need to buy him a chess set, learn the game, and force herself to concentrate on it. That was one way she could make up for jerking him away from someone he'd started to care for.

  As her heels clicked on the cement floor, both Dexter and Harry glanced up, and as if choreographed, they both stood and faced her.

  She held out her hand to Dexter. "We need to go, Dexter, but first we should thank Mr. Harry for all he's done."

  "We could make him more cookies," Dexter said. "He's crazy about your cookies."

  Lainie blushed, and to her amazement, so did Harry. "Cookies don't seem like enough," she said. "But I can send you some, anyway. It's the least I can do. I should—"

  "Send them?" Dexter peered up at her. "Why can't he just come up and get them? When we play chess?"

  She looked down into Dexter's trusting gray eyes and hated having to quash his dream of endless chess games with his new hero. "You might not be able to play chess with Mr. Harry for a while," she said. "But I'll buy you a chess set and you can teach me how to play. We'll play every day. How's that?"

  Dexter looked uncertain. "I don't think chess is your game, Mommy."

  "I'll make it my game." Feeling the pressure of time ticking away, she looked at Harry. "I don't know how to thank you. You've gone above and beyond, and I'll never forget that. I'm sorry we have to leave so quickly, but I think we'd better be on our way. I'm sure you under­stand."

  "Lainie, can he recognize your car?"

  She blinked. Of course Joey could recognize her car. It was the same one she'd had in Jersey, and she still hadn't painted the replacement fender white to match the rest of the car. Then there was her bumper sticker that said i hope you dance. That car would stand out.

  "He doesn't know mine," Harry said. "I kept a look­out, and nobody followed us when we left the apartment complex. I guess your chest of drawers is sturdier than I thought."

  "What?"

  "Never mind. I'll explain later. But we need to use my car to get out of here."

  "That's a good idea," Dexter said.

  "It is," Lainie said reluctantly. Although she didn't want to pile yet another obligation on top of all she owed Harry, she had no other plan. "Thank you. I accept."

  "Yay!" Dexter gave a little hop of glee.

  "Mr. Harry's only going to drop us off," she said.

  "Drop us off where?"

  Lainie had no answer for that. She was making this up as she went along.

  "At my mother's," Harry said before Lainie could think of an answer to Dexter's question.

  Lainie stared at him. "Oh, I don't—" "You have a mother?" Dexter looked entranced by the idea.

  "Alive, well, and living about twenty minutes away in Henderson. So let's go."

  Lainie's head spun. "You don't have to call her first?"

  "I can give her a call on my cell while we're driving. It'll be fine. Joey won't find you there and you'll have time to catch your breath and decide what to do."

  "Okay." Lainie vowed she'd stay at Harry's mother's house for an hour, tops. A person could figure out a lot in an hour. Yet sh
e had to admit her problems were big­ger than she'd thought. She might be able to hide out in a motel for a while, but no way could she afford another car. Maybe she could pull off a leasing arrangement, though. Holding Dexter's hand, she started toward the stage door leading to the rear parking lot.

  "You should go out the front way," Harry said. "I'll bring the car around."

  She paused, her brain still buzzing from the shock of what she had to do. "The front?"

  "If Joey shows up here, he'd come to the back look­ing for your car. He'd assume you'd leave that way."

  "You're right." She wasn't thinking straight at all, and she had to think straight. Dexter's future might depend on it. Thank goodness Harry was relatively calm. If it took her years, she'd figure out some way to make it up to him for all the trouble she was causing.

  "Do you remember what I drive?" Harry asked.

  "I do!" Dexter looked happier by the minute. "It's black, and the seats are made out of leather, which is from dead cows, you know. They're old and dead before they take off the skin. Very old and very dead. Leather's okay to sit on if you've peed your pants."

  As Harry stepped onto the asphalt heading for his Lexus, he realized he was doing something he never did. He was winging it. That wasn't his normal mode of op­eration. And here's where winging it had stuck him— taking Lainie, who was still wearing his favorite dance costume under her raincoat, over to Rona's house, where the two women would probably bond.

  Anyway, bonding was what he'd come to expect from showgirls. Rona had insisted on buying a condo in Henderson's Emerald Lakes development because all her retired showgirl friends were buying there. They'd formed a five-member pack, calling themselves Temptresses in Temporary Suspension, or TITS for short. Knowing those women, Harry figured the acronym had come first and they'd stayed up nights drinking margaritas until they found words to fit.