But she did remember Izzy and his promises. Everything’s going to be all right …
And she remembered his smile.
The nurse who was with Greg shifted—obviously uncertain and wondering if she should hand the discharge papers to Greg or to Eden.
Eden took the decision—and the papers—out of the woman’s hands. “Ben’s coming with us. We’re going to take him to Danny, who isn’t here right now only because he was recently injured in Afghanistan—surviving a near-death incident, much to your disappointment, I’m sure.” She felt Izzy caution her, his hand tightening on her arm.
“I don’t care if you’re going to take him to live in the White House, or with the man in the moon,” Greg shot back, letting his voice get louder. “He’s my son, and I will not just give him away! Not until he’s cured of his illness.”
“Cured …?” Eden started.
“Okay,” Izzy said, stepping between them again. “Hold on …”
But her argument with Greg had woken Ben, who called for her from his hospital room. “Eden …?” His voice broke with his anxiety and he sounded like the frightened child he’d once been.
“I’m right here, Boo-Boo,” Eden reassured him, rushing toward his room. “I’m not going anywhere.”
But Greg spoke over her. “Get dressed and gather up your things, boy,” he ordered as he followed her into Ben’s room. “I’m taking you home.”
Ben was horrified when he realized that he was right—he had heard his stepfather’s voice. He was sitting up in bed, his blanket clutched to his skinny chest as he looked from Eden to Greg to Izzy and the nurse, who had followed them in.
Eden gave him her best Izzy smile and reassured him. “I’m not letting him take you anywhere.” She spun to stop Greg, getting right in his face even though his breath was awful. “Over my dead body.”
“That’s easy enough to arrange,” Greg said.
And Izzy took him down.
One minute she and Greg were standing there, nose-to-nose, and the next, Izzy had pushed her back, out of the way. She bumped into Ben’s bed with the backs of her legs as Izzy and Greg hit the floor. And she realized that Greg had reached into the pocket of his windbreaker, where, for all they knew, he could well have been packing his handgun.
Then Greg was howling, with his face against the tile, Izzy’s big knee jammed into the middle of his back, his right arm twisted up behind him as the SEAL searched him for a weapon.
And came up empty-handed.
The nurse had already dashed away, no doubt to call for security, as Greg continued to scream, “You broke my arm! You broke my arm!”
Izzy looked up at Eden, absolutely no apology in his eyes. “I wasn’t willing to wait and see if he was carrying,” he said. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, but … The shit’s about to hit the fan.” He aimed his next words to Greg. “It’s not broken, asshole. Believe me, if it was broken, you’d know it.” He then included Ben in what he was saying, raising his voice so they could hear him over Greg’s noise. “You both need to keep a clear head, stay cool, okay? Whoever’s coming might get rough with me, but that’s okay.”
“It is not—” Eden started.
Izzy cut her off. “Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m a kind of large guy and that’s going to scare the guards, so they’re going to get loud when they see me. But they’re not going to hurt me, I don’t bruise easily, and it is going to be okay. Nod your head—it’s okay. Ben, you too. Come on, help me out here.”
Eden nodded jerkily, and she turned to see Ben nod, too.
“Excellent. Eden, call your brother and Jenn,” Izzy continued. “We could use them down here—understatement. And Ben? Look at me, bro. This is going to be okay. Seriously. No one’s going to make you go home with numbnuts here.” He looked down at Greg. “Last chance, asshole. If I let you up, will you walk away? Let Ben go to San Diego with—”
Whatever Greg said as he continued to sob, it clearly wasn’t what Izzy’d hoped to hear, because he shook his head with regret. “Okay then,” Izzy said as he looked back at Ben. “You’ve got the power, kid. You listening to me?”
Ben nodded again.
“The nurse is going to come back in here,” Izzy told Ben, “and you need to pull her aside and say this: Ask me if I feel safe with Greg. And when she does, you answer her honestly—you got that?”
But Ben didn’t get a chance to respond, because time was up.
And sure enough, two security guards came into the room, and when they saw Izzy, with Greg still pinned beneath him, they got loud, just as he’d said they would.
Izzy was calm and he just kept talking in that even, unruffled voice, now to the guards. “My name is Irving Zanella, I’m an active-duty Navy SEAL, just back from Afghanistan, and I am on your side. This is my father-in-law, who threatened my wife and her brother with a loaded handgun just yesterday. When he reached into his pocket as he was threatening my wife here today? I wasn’t going to wait to see if he was stupid enough to carry concealed in a hospital. Turns out he’s not. His arm is not broken, regardless of what he’s saying …”
Despite all the shouting and noise, in the middle of all of the chaos, Izzy looked over at Eden and smiled.
And she was pretty certain that, before the guards led both men out of Ben’s room, she heard Izzy humming a bar or two of the song that went Three cheers for the red, white, and blue—a tune that was most frequently performed by marching bands.
The police officer was hot. He was young, and he had dark hair that he wore longer than Ben would have expected from an officer who used that much starch in his uniform. But maybe his hair just grew really quickly and he hadn’t had time to get it cut.
He had a baby face that made him look a little bit like he’d dressed up as a cop for Halloween, and he sighed as Ben finished telling his story for a second time.
“Lemme see your arms again,” he said, and Ben obediently held out his hands, palms up.
His wrists were bruised and sore, the skin red and scraped from being cuffed to the cot by the plastic restraints all night. His shoulders were sore, too. But there wasn’t any visible proof of that.
The nurse—her name was Betsy—who hadn’t left his side since he’d asked her for protection from his stepfather, made an anguished noise low in her throat. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that when you were admitted,” she said.
“I was trying to hide it,” Ben told her. “I was embarrassed. Besides, I thought it was over. I thought I was safe.”
It was a magic word, safe. He was thankful Izzy had told him to use it.
But maybe he’d used it too often, because the cop—Officer Kellen was his name—tilted his head, and said, “Your father’s insisting that your brother-in-law, Irving Zanella—coached you as to what to say to us.”
Ben shook his head, no. “Izzy told me how to ask for help,” he said. “And he told me to be honest. That’s all.”
“This is a big deal, son,” Kellen said. “So if you’re not being honest—”
“I am,” Ben said. “And while I really appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me, would you mind, very much, not calling me son? I have a problem with people who really aren’t that much older than me trying to be paternal. Or maybe you’re playing the folksy card—trust me, it’s not working. And as long as I’m being bitchy here about what we call each other? Greg Fortune is not my father. He says he legally adopted me? If he did, I didn’t have a say in it.”
Kellen sighed again as he flipped through the pages of notes he’d taken with his ridiculous stub of a pencil. “And you think if you went home with him …?”
“I have no doubt, whatsoever,” Ben said, holding the police officer’s steady gaze, “that he would send me back to Crossroads—and that I’ll spend tonight cuffed to a bed, too.”
Kellen glanced at the nurse. “I gotta be honest. This is a new one, for me. The father—Greg—is saying the same thing. But he claims it’s no different from a military school, that
yeah, they’re strict …”
And so much for Ben’s hopes that he’d lucked out and gotten a police officer who’d actually marched in the Pride Parade. But the nurse leaped to his defense.
“This boy ended up in the hospital,” she said sharply, “because this man who claims to be his father neglected to mention that his alleged son was diabetic before sending him to that awful place!”
“He’s contrite about that,” Kellen said. “He said it was an oversight. A simple miscommunication. They’ve now been informed—it won’t happen again. Parents are allowed to make mistakes.” He looked at Ben, and sighed again.
It was over. He’d lost.
And now Ben was going to throw up. Or faint. Or both. He pushed his chair back from the table and put his head down between his knees and breathed as he tried not to shake.
He could feel the nurse’s hand on his back, but she couldn’t help him. It was up to Officer Kellen to decide whether or not he should get the Department of Child Protective Services involved or send Ben back home.
So Ben pushed himself up as far as he could, his elbows on his knees, because Jesus, he could still keel over any second, so he wanted to keep his center of gravity low. And he looked at the man and he begged.
“Please,” he said, with his heart in his throat. “I’m not a bad person. I know I got picked up for truancy yesterday, but that was because my stepfather hit me, and I was staying with my sister, and I was afraid he’d find me if I went to school. The detectives scared me, and I ran. I shouldn’t’ve—I know that. But it hasn’t happened before, and it won’t happen again. My grades are okay, I keep my head down, and I don’t get into trouble. The only thing I’m guilty of is being gay. Being honest about it. And that’s not going to change by being tied up, or starved or sleep-deprived. That’s what they do there—at Crossroads. There’s another boy in there. He was in my cell for a few hours last night—he was tied up, too. His name is Peter Sinclair—write that down, too, okay? Sinclair. He’s been there for months, against his will. He was tied up by his feet because his wrists were bandaged—he told me he tried to kill himself so he’d get sent to the hospital, but they didn’t let him go. They’re withholding food from him and they’re keeping him from sleeping, too—they moved him out of the cell before I woke up. What they’re doing isn’t being strict—it’s fucked up.” He glanced at the nurse. “Excuse me. But it is. And it’s abuse. And you know what? Even if you could squint your eyes and pretend that it’s an appropriate punishment for kids who are bad, that it’s not that different from what they do at those schools that are called military schools, but have nothing to do with the military and everything to do with discarded kids whose parents can’t handle them? Even if you believe that, then you need to ask yourself if I really deserve to be punished for doing nothing worse than simply being me.”
Officer Kellen was clenching his teeth, the muscle jumping in the side of his face as he tapped his pencil stub against the name—Peter Sinclair—that he’d just written on a fresh page of his notepad.
“Please,” Ben said again. “Go over there and talk to Peter before you let Greg send me back. And maybe? If you have even half of a heart, you’ll get him, and every other kid who doesn’t want to be there out of there, too.”
“Okay,” Jenn said as she closed her phone and came back inside, into the hospital lobby, where Dan was waiting with his sister and Izzy. Dan was sitting with his head back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed. His eyes had been closed, but he opened them now. She knew he was running on empty. He’d fallen asleep midsentence, just a few hours earlier, after she’d given him his requested “massage.” “Here’s what Linda told me.”
“Who’s Linda?” Izzy asked. Apparently the police officer who’d made the scene after the SEAL had had his altercation with Dan’s stepfather had decided that Izzy’s rough treatment of Greg had been warranted. It probably helped that Greg was as Looney Tunes crazy as he looked, and that he truly believed he had the right to use threat of death from a loaded weapon to discipline a teenager. Last Jenn had heard, Ben’s stepfather had been talking to the police officer—Kellen was the young cop’s name—and earnestly insisting that everything he’d done was completely okay. It was tough love. And yes, he was, absolutely, intending to send Ben back to Crossroads, as soon as possible …
“Linda’s the lawyer that Maria recommended.” Eden filled him in as Jenn stuck her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans and sat down next to Danny. “Maria Bonavita—the assemblywoman that Jenn works for? She’s—”
“I know Maria,” Izzy cut her off.
Eden looked at him.
“What?” he said. “I know her. That’s all. We’ve met. I slept on her living-room floor when crazy people wanted to kill her. With Lopez. He was there. And Tiny Tony V. Danny, too. We told ghost stories, and why am I telling you this?”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.
Izzy shrugged and turned back to Jenn, who’d flipped her legal pad back to the first page of notes she’d taken during her phone call. “So. Linda the lawyer,” he said. “What did she say?”
“That the Department of Child Protective Services will do everything they possibly can to keep a child with his parents—”
“Even if the parents don’t want him?” Eden asked. “I mean, they don’t want him. Not really.”
Izzy reached over and took her hand.
“It’s going to be an uphill climb,” Jenn said. “Our best shot is to present a united front. We’re talking about moving Ben out of state, which is even more questionable from CPS’s standpoint. Linda thought the best possible way to get that kind of custody is to have Eden and Izzy apply, because they’ve been married for almost a year now. There’s stability there—sort of. I mean … um …”
God, this was awkward. She hadn’t thought before she’d spoken. And the way Dan had described it, Izzy had come to Vegas to talk to Eden about getting a divorce. But they acted more like newlyweds, which, of course, Danny believed was just Eden being Eden and messing with Izzy’s mind, but Jenn wasn’t as sure. She saw the way Dan’s sister looked at Izzy, and the way he looked back at her. There was something there.
“That option’s certainly on the table,” Izzy said quietly. “For Ben’s sake, I’d certainly be open to, um, staying together at least a little bit longer.”
Danny cleared his throat, and shot Jenn a look that had shades of I’m having an aneurism in it.
She kept her own expression carefully neutral. “Okay,” she said. “That’s good. Linda also thought it would go over well if the plan was for, um, the four of you to share an apartment.”
“Is that … really necessary?” Eden asked.
“It is. Linda also thinks your best shot,” Jenn answered, “is to put pressure on your mother. She told Dan that it was okay if Ben went to live with him. We need to be sure she knows that Greg is making the noise he’s making, and see if she can’t talk him down. We also need to check to find out if he really did adopt Ben. I’ll be looking into that tomorrow.”
“I’ve called Ivette’s cell phone four times,” Danny reported, checking his cell phone. “And left four messages.”
“Getting in touch with her is a priority,” Jenn said. “Because what we really want is to settle this outside of CPS. As soon as they decide that Ben really is in danger from Greg—and that initial process takes about three days—they’ll launch a full investigation and hold a hearing. But once that happens? There’s no going back. A guardian ad litem is appointed, and Ben is put into foster care. If that happens, Linda’s going to find out if we can petition the guardian to let Ben live with you until the hearing, or if we have to actually apply to be foster parents and go through the whole interview process. She’s going to call me back about that.”
“So it’s possible that—if CPS gets involved,” Eden clarified, “Ben will go into foster care, even though we’re sitting right here, waving our arms, beg
ging to take him in?”
“That’s right,” Jenn told her.
“This hearing,” Izzy asked. “It basically all comes down to a judge who decides … Who Ben should live with?”
“Nope,” Jenn said. “It’s all about Greg and Ivette. The judge decides whether or not Ben will be safe if he continues to live with them. The guardian has a lot to say about that. Of course, you’d all get to speak at the hearing—Ben, too. And we can bring in experts—and there’re a lot of them—who agree that being gay isn’t something that can be changed by a place like Crossroads. But ultimately, it’s up to the judge. If he decides that it’s in Ben’s best interest to go home to Ivette and Greg, Ben goes home.”
“And then to Crossroads,” Eden said darkly.
“If the judge decides not,” Jenn said, “then Ben becomes a ward of the state of Nevada. And it’s only then that Izzy and Eden can apply for custody.”
“What if the judge—or the guardian,” Dan asked, “is homophobic?”
“That could be a problem,” Jenn admitted. “I actually anticipated your asking that, and asked Linda to look into the possibility of Ben declaring himself an emancipated minor.” She looked at Eden. “That’s kind of like him divorcing his parents.”
“I know,” she said. She forced a smile. “But thank you for … Thank you.”
They were all silent then, as Jenn flipped through her notes, checking to see if there was anything she could add to what she’d already told them.
Dan cleared his throat again. “How long does it all take?” he asked. “If CPS decides there needs to be a full investigation? How long until the hearing?”
“It happens pretty quickly,” Jenn told him. “We’ll have about thirty days.”
“Thirty days is quick?” Dan asked, laughing his disbelief. “God damn.” He was really shaken. “I’m going to have to get leave, but it’s probably going to be without pay and—”
Breaking the Rules Page 24
