Rules of the Game

by Sandy James

  “Because you knocked her up.”

  “What can I say? Once a ladies’ man, always a ladies’ man.” A glance back to his wife, who was talking to some of the other old cheerleaders. “Anita’s busy right now. Wanna go get a drink? Do some catching up? Heard you live in New York City now.”

  What I wanted was for him to go far, far away. “My date’s getting me a drink.”

  He scoffed as if he thought I was being dense. “Didn’t mean here. We could go to The Blind Pig or someplace private for a while. They’d never miss us. I want to hear all about your life in the big city.”

  The stupid sonofabitch was trying to pick me up, right here at the reunion in front of his wife, my date and all our former classmates.

  “Go screw yourself.”

  “I’d rather screw you again. We could relive some fond memories.”

  I wanted to punch his lights out. I glanced back to Scott. He was occupied with the bartender, who was handing him two glasses. I almost screamed at him to hurry. “You didn’t screw me, you raped me.”

  “I just took what you offered. Besides, we were nothing but kids.”

  I frowned at him, not even wanting to waste any more breath having a conversation with the bastard. “Fuck off.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Maddie. I just wanted to catch up.”

  “I told you, fuck off.” I turned to head to Scott.

  When Craig reached up to try to lay a hand on my shoulder again, I swatted that hand away. Hard.

  Craig’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hey, why’d you hit me?”

  Leveling my best don’t-mess-with-me-you-insane-asshole stare that I’d learned by dealing with New York City crazies, I gathered my anger. “You might want to act like you’re still big man on campus,” I sneered, shaking my right index finger in his face, “but don’t ever, ever pretend that you and I don’t know exactly what happened.” I dropped my hand and clenched it into a fist. “You. Raped. Me.”

  His laugh almost pushed me over the edge. “Oh, I know what happened. You wanted it, and you wanted it rough. You were a wild girl, Maddie. I just took advantage of it.”

  The reaction came from deep down inside my soul, and I couldn’t have held it back any more than you could hold back a class-five hurricane. With a rumbling growl that grew to a near roar, I pulled my fist back and hit Craig in the eye hard enough that he took several stumbling steps back.

  His hands covered his injured eye. “You crazy bitch!” The shout echoed through the hall.

  The noise from the crowd died to a whisper as everyone turned to look at us. I wanted to hit him again. Harder. “Don’t ever touch me again, you bastard! Just stay the hell away from me!” I whirled around, intending to grab Scott and drag him right out of that godforsaken Moose Lodge. I collided with his chest.

  “What the hell happened?” Scott put his hand on my shoulders to steady me. I had no idea what had happened to our drinks.

  Craig was still holding his swelling eye and shouting that I’d sucker punched him for no good reason.

  No good reason, my fat ass.

  Terri reached me, her eyes wide. “Shit. What’s going on, Maddie?”

  I just wanted this humiliation to end. “I wanna leave.”

  My sister grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear. “Don’t you dare go now. You walk away, that prick wins, and you damn well know it. Everyone in Pottsville will think you’re a psycho ’cause they don’t know what really happened. All they know is you punched him in the eye, and he’ll tell everyone he didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

  She was right, but staying there would be agony. I looked over to Scott.

  The ferocity of his frown could have started the Great Chicago Fire. “Want me to smack some sense into the idiot?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  Craig had the nerve to walk back up to us. Before he could say a word, Scott grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and dragged him several feet away. In low but very angry tones, they had an intense discussion. Threatening gestures were made until Craig gave Scott a hard shove.

  Scott threw a cool smile in response and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Yanking out what appeared to be a business card, he tossed it at Craig’s feet. Craig actually stooped to pick it up.

  Craig tore the card in half and threw the pieces back at Scott. They bounced off his chest, but Scott deftly caught them midair and shoved the halves in his pocket. Craig stomped away, grabbed his Barbie doll wife’s hand and headed to the exit. He slammed open the double doors to the Moose Lodge and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Ten

  I was dying to find out what Scott said to Craig, but when my sexy guy came back to stand with Terri and me, he didn’t volunteer any information. Not a single word.

  “What did you say?” I finally asked. “What’s on that card?”

  He shrugged. “Just convinced him it might be in his best interests to leave you alone.”

  “But the card?” Would he notice if I started sifting through his pockets to find the pieces?

  “Let it go, Maddie. I’ll tell you more later. Promise. He’s gone now.”

  Was he? Had I finally laid the ghost of what Craig had done to me to rest? For the first time, I felt free. Socking him in the face was sure cathartic. I hadn’t realized how much all the pent-up anger had eaten away at me over the years.

  I was done wasting any more of my life on Craig Austin.

  “Come on,” Scott said. “Let’s forget that loser. Dance with me.” His gaze wandered the crowd that was still throwing glares my way and whispering things I was sure were cruel. All I could do was nod and rub my aching hand.

  “Need some ice?” Scott asked as he took my sore hand and kissed the reddened knuckles.

  “Nah.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  I arched a curious eyebrow.

  “You stood up for yourself. I know you only gave him a black eye, but you also got your pride back.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss over my lips. “He’ll think about you every time he looks in the mirror for the next couple of days, every time he sees that shiner. C’mon, angel. Let’s dance.”

  This whole reunion had turned into a full-blown disaster. Dancing would probably only make it worse, but I needed Scott to hold me. If I had to make an ass out of myself for the second time that night by dancing to achieve that goal, fine. “Okay.”

  He drew me out onto the dance floor, tugged me into his arms, and we started to sway with the music. Just romantic swaying, none of the fancy stuff Tiffany taught us. We were both content.

  The band sucked, and their cover of some hard rock ballad left a lot to be desired. The floor got so crowded, we periodically bumped into people. I stepped on his toes a couple of times, and he stepped on mine. None of that mattered. I was in his arms, and I belonged there.

  Resting my cheek against his shoulder, I breathed a contented sigh. His chin rubbed the top of my head, a gesture that always made me feel cherished. “You okay, angel?”

  I nodded. “I’ll survive.” How many times had I told myself that same thing after what Craig had done to me? How many times had I tried to pretend it really didn’t happen? How many times had I tried to forget all the rest of the disaster that followed?

  “You know, none of this really matters.”

  Pulling back, I gazed up into his eyes. The tender look I found there almost made me burst into tears. “Why do you say that?”

  He kissed my forehead, forcing me to release another sigh. “Because it’s just your past.”

  Just my past. Easy for him to say. I shrugged an indifference I didn’t feel, knowing everything that happened so many years ago would probably affect me the rest of my life.

  “I mean it, Maddie. The past is past. You’ve gotta let it go. You’ve gotta look to the future.”

  Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Simply let it all go, forget all the horrible things, and leave them behind? The notion was both enticing and terrifying be
cause if the past was gone, what remained? “What exactly do I have in the future?”

  His eyes fixed on me, and I could see the determination there, a strength I desperately wanted to absorb and make my own. “Me.”

  How was I supposed to respond to that simple word? It was said with the reverence of a vow, and my heart filled with love for this man.

  Love?

  Oh, yes. I was in love with Scott Brady.

  My lack of a quick response, in addition to the stupor that probably registered on my face, must have hit a nerve. Scott furrowed his brow. “Me, Maddie. Your future will have me.”

  I rose on tiptoe to kiss him—a quick brush of lips that raced through me like the touch of a live wire. “And you’ll have me,” I whispered before laying my cheek back against his strong chest. He squeezed me a little tighter against him.

  I wanted to stay like this forever. Gently moving to the music. Surrounded by his warmth and masculine scent. Listening to the beat of his heart. At that moment, for the first time I could remember, life was perfect.

  Absolutely perfect.

  As if.

  The high-pitched whine of the sound system hit my ears. Someone was messing around with the microphone. God, I hated that noise as much as the sound of a dentist’s drill. The terrible music sputtered to a halt as the crowd turned curious gazes to the stage. I just figured the crappy band had crappy audio equipment.

  I was wrong.

  Standing center stage was a teenager, judging from that not-quite-a-man-but-not-really-a-child air about him. His disheveled mousey brown hair brushed his shoulders. He wore what I considered to be a typical teenaged guy uniform—baggy pants, an oversized T-shirt and tennis shoes, all a drab greenish-brown or camo.

  “Um, hey,” he said in the microphone, setting off another round of teeth-gnashing audio screeches. He glanced over his shoulder at the band members until one of them adjusted a couple of knobs on his equipment and the whining thankfully ended. “Um, hi,” he said again. “I’m sorry to interrupt your party. The lady I’m looking for is ’sposed to be here.”

  My stomach did a quick cartwheel like it often did before something really bad happened. I swallowed and groped for Scott’s hand, squeezing hard enough that he looked over at me and frowned.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer as I simply stared at that kid on the stage. He pulled a wadded piece of paper from his pocket and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. “Is there a…shit. Hang on. I want to say this right.” He stretched the paper a little more and frowned. “Is there a…Mad-a-lynn Sawyer here? She graduated with some of the people in this reunion.” He shaded his eyes with his hands and squinted against the stage lights. “Madalyn Sawyer?”

  The world started spinning and I couldn’t draw a single breath. There could only be one reason—one bone-chilling, terrifying reason—this kid was searching for me.

  Every bad memory I’d buried so deeply I was sure they’d never, ever see the light of day again came pushing to the surface like the explosion of a well when oil was first struck.

  No. No. No. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t ever happen. The records had been sealed. The attorney swore this could never happen.

  The man fucking swore!

  All attorneys are nothing but lying, cheating bastards.

  Every inquisitive face turned to me as fight-or-flight kicked in so hard I feared I was going to pass out. My heart hammered loud enough that I was sure everyone in the Moose Lodge could hear it. I whirled to face Scott and my hands clenched, gathering his jacket lapels into my fists. My breath returned, coming in pants and gasps. “Let’s go! Now!”

  I had no idea what to do and no control over my burgeoning panic attack. About the time I was forming a plan on how to keep from losing consciousness, get to the boy and hustle him off the stage to somewhere private, Scott stepped into the fray. He moved in front of me, actually pushing me behind his back as if to protect me. “Why do you want Madalyn Sawyer?”

  The kid fixed his hard eyes on Scott and then shifted them to me. He knew then he’d found Madalyn Sawyer, just as I was sure exactly who he was.

  Elijah Tyler Robertson.

  Eli.

  Those eyes. Oh, my God. I knew those eyes. The same ones looked back at me every damned day in the mirror as I combed my hair and brushed my teeth.

  An accusing finger rose to point at me, trembling every bit as hard as I was. “Because,” Eli said in a voice as brutal as the winter wind, “that bitch is my mom.”

  The entire crowd considered me like I was some kind of sideshow freak. Every eye bored right through my soul as all of my former classmates probably searched their memories and counted on their fingers to figure out how I could possibly be the boy’s mom. And then they’d start to speculate about who was the lucky dad.

  None of them had ever known about the pregnancy. Neither did my parents. The only person privy to the secret was Terri. I’d hidden my condition well behind my already chubby weight and thick, bulky clothes. Most people thought I was just some fat girl who dressed like a slob.

  Now, they knew differently.

  I’d carried him deeply in my body, so I never really looked as stereotypically pregnant as some women. Mom had mentioned sending me to Weight Watchers a couple of times, but Dad told her to stop bugging me about it because it obviously made me eat more. When I gave birth to Eli in Indianapolis, my parents thought I was at a creative writing camp. Mom had been thrilled I came back so much thinner.

  Scott gaped at Eli for a moment then swung his confused gaze to me. He must have seen what a basket case I’d become because he quickly restored some sanity to this whole ridiculously absurd scene. Taking my hand, he led me toward the stage, stopped to give my son a hard stare, and inclined his head at the side door. Eli returned the glare for a moment before giving us a curt nod and following us out the door that Scott pushed open with far more force than necessary.

  I couldn’t find my voice. Every idea in my head tumbled around like clothes stuffed in a dryer, the past and present mingling and shifting and plummeting and turning.

  Scott led us to a quiet part of the parking lot. “What in the hell was that all about?” He wasn’t exactly shouting at the kid, but his commanding tone suggested the answer be swift.

  The boy watched me with an intensity of hatred I had never felt from another human being. It sizzled against my skin like flames.

  “I wanted to find my mom. My birth mom. Looks like she’s it.” He frowned at me. “You’re Madalyn Sawyer, right? You gave birth to a baby boy sixteen years ago, right?”

  Even in my catatonic state, I managed a nod.

  Scott splayed his fingers through his hair. “And you thought this was the best way to find her? Jesus Christ, kid. That was cruel.”

  “Giving me up wasn’t cruel? She fucking abandoned me!” His mocking snort sounded so much like my sister’s, a smile actually tugged at the corners of my lips. The tears I refused to let spill over my lashes spoke more of my true mood.

  At least my voice came tumbling back. “I didn’t abandon you.” The words came out no louder than a whisper.

  Scott set his hands against his hips, took a step toward my son and scowled down at him. “I don’t want to hear that word again.”

  “What word?” Eli asked with an equally blistering frown.

  “The F-bomb. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Eli,” I answered. At least that was the name the Robertsons told me they’d given him. For the first year, Sean and Stephanie sent me pictures and short notes. We’d agreed to that in the adoption. Then they had the choice to cut off communication, and that was exactly what they’d done. It had felt as though someone ripped my heart out when I waited month after month for something, anything, to tell me how Eli was doing. Yet month after month, the silence continued.

  For the first year, I looked at every baby I saw with fruitless hope I’d see him. The family moved from Pottsville to California not long aft
er the adoption, but Eli didn’t appear to be a surfer boy. How in the hell had he made his way back to Indiana?

  “Yeah,” the boy said, not even glancing my way. “It’s Eli. Like she gives a flying fuck what I’m called.”

  Scott’s heated frown could have started a fire with wet wood. “I hear that word again, and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? You’ll what?” The challenge was there in Eli’s rigid stance and his hostile tone.

  Great, a pissing contest.

  Scott’s answer came as a surprise. “We’ll walk away. I refuse to talk to someone whose vocabulary’s so stunted he can only throw around profanities, and I won’t let Maddie put up with rudeness.”

  That threat must have worked because Eli finally acquiesced with a shrug. “Whatever.”

  The absurdity of the moment hit me full force. Here we were. My son and I. Together. I’d thought about this moment more times than I could count. Eli—my Eli—was actually standing in front of me.

  Of course, in my fantasies, Eli didn’t hate my guts with a passion that burned brighter than a supernova. No, in my fantasies he would throw himself into my arms, thanking me for going through with the pregnancy regardless of the high personal cost. He’d be happy that I’d given him to a family who vowed they would raise him as their own and provide him with all the love a boy needed to make his way in this scary and disappointing world.

  Instead, I had a sixteen-year-old who probably wished he could push me into a full bathtub and hold my head under the water until I quit struggling.

  What in the hell was I supposed to say to him? I’d never expected him to hate me for giving him up for adoption. What did he imagine I should have done? Was I supposed to keep him, be a single teen mom, and never give either of us a future?

  Eli threw the first grenade in the war he’d declared. “Why?”

  I was so surprised by the question, I actually answered. “Because I was seventeen.”

  “So that gave you the right to just throw me away?”

  “I didn’t throw you away!”

  “You gave me to them!”