Foxy Roxy

by Nancy Martin

  Sage reached for the glass of milk in front of her. “I think he should know. It’s not fair keeping it a secret. He should have a say. But it’s tricky right now.”

  “What’s so tricky about it?”

  “Zack,” Flynn said carefully, “may not be the monogamous type.”

  Roxy dropped her fork. “He’s screwing other girls? Oh, that’s great, Sage. You get pregnant by a jagoff who—”

  “Let’s try to keep this discussion productive,” Flynn said. “Name-calling isn’t helpful.”

  Roxy slammed the table. “I’m sick of this! Since when did you get to be the boss all of a sudden?”

  “Mom—”

  “How come you’re here, anyway? Did Sage call you?”

  Flynn remained unruffled. “I dropped by after going to the market this morning. She was pouring herself a bowl of cold cereal when I came to the back door. And she was crying. So I came in and made breakfast.”

  “I had to tell him why I was crying,” Sage said, fighting down another blush. “About the baby. He said congratulations right off, by the way, which is a hell of a lot nicer than the reaction you gave me.”

  “I just don’t see why we need him butting into our—”

  “I could use a male perspective! Flynn thinks I should tell Zack now. Right away. Not months from now when I’m all—you know, puffy. Maybe I should invite him over for dinner.”

  “Alone,” Flynn clarified. “Without having your mother or Loretta around.”

  Roxy rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do, Sage? Sedate him with pizza before you break the news? You think giving him dinner will make him suddenly want to marry you? Haven’t you learned anything by living in this neighborhood?”

  “It could happen!”

  “Sage, it should be obvious to you that a onetime donation of sperm doesn’t magically turn a guy into a devoted father.”

  Sage was suddenly fighting tears. “Do you have to be so negative?”

  “I’m being realistic! In my experience, a young guy is not going to jump for joy when he hears he’s going to be a baby daddy before he can legally buy himself a beer.”

  “Well, your experience is extensive,” Sage shot back. “So I guess you’re the expert.”

  Flynn reached out with one hand and pinned Roxy to her chair before she could jump up and explode. He said, “Okay, so I was a jerk. Let’s not assume everybody is. Maybe Zack is more mature than you think. He wants to be a cop, for one thing. Surely that means he’s got a sense of responsibility.”

  “Or he’s a cowboy who wants to carry a gun.”

  “Roxy—”

  “All right! But if you plan to ask him about child support, Sage, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I’m not asking him for any kind of support! I’ll get a job.”

  “An after-school job?” Roxy couldn’t believe her ears. “No way! This is your senior year. You’ve got to focus on your grades and those college applications. You’re not going to spend your life making more babies and taking welfare to raise them—not while I’m still kicking.”

  “How am I going to pay for everything?” Sage cried. “Doctors cost money—even at the clinic!”

  “I’ve got it covered,” Roxy said. “Don’t worry about money right now.”

  Both Sage and Flynn looked at her with surprise.

  Roxy couldn’t keep the defensive note out of her voice. “I’ve got options. So don’t worry about paying for things.” She sent a glare at Flynn.

  But Sage said, “Thank you. So can I invite Zack over for dinner?”

  “You’d better ask Loretta. It’s her house.”

  Sage picked at the tablecloth with her fingernail.

  “Okay, okay,” Roxy said, getting the message. “I’ll talk to her for you. I know she can get emotional sometimes.”

  Flynn got up to pour coffee, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Roxy punched his arm. “Cut her some of that frittata. And pour plenty of coffee. I’ll take some upstairs to Loretta.”

  Sage got up from the table and gave Roxy a noisy smooch on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Gee, it was almost a cozy family moment. Then Sage shouldered her book bag and said, “I got some info about statues, by the way.”

  Roxy forgot about being mad. “Like what?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Tonight, maybe, after I learn more. I’m meeting someone today.”

  “What someone? I thought you were just going to the library.”

  “I did some Internet research instead and talked to some people on the phone. I’m meeting an art dealer lady at a coffee shop.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I was completely circumspect,” Sage said. “I can keep my mouth shut.”

  Aware of Flynn watching from over the rim of a coffee cup, Roxy attempted to control the rising concern in her voice. “When are you meeting?”

  “This afternoon, after school. Don’t worry. I’m not going to get roofied and kidnapped, all right? Jeez.”

  “You’re not meeting this person alone.”

  “I’ll take Kiryn along.”

  “No, I mean I’m going, too.”

  “Mom, sometimes you act like I’m still twelve!”

  “This is business, and I need to be there. When’s your appointment?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m supposed to call today to set up a time.”

  “Give me the number.” Roxy put her palm out. “I’ll talk to this person myself. What’s her name?”

  Handling a knife and plate, Flynn said, “If this meeting is so scary, how come Sage is involved at all?”

  “She’s not involved. She was just looking up stuff for me.” Roxy sent a hard look at her daughter. “At least that’s all it was supposed to be.”

  “Arden something,” Sage said at last. “She is a very nice person. She’s classy. Friendly. You’ll say something wrong, I just know it.”

  “You think I can’t handle friendly?”

  Flynn laughed. If Roxy had been closer, she’d have kicked him.

  “You’ll scare her off,” Sage said. “Besides, I’m already involved, so let me keep going.”

  “No,” Roxy said flatly. “Call me when you know what time you’re meeting. We can do it together. I’m serious about this, Sage. I have to be there. Got it?”

  Sage poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it down in four long swallows. She put the glass in the dishwasher, letting the suspense build. Finally, she turned to face Roxy. “Okay, okay. Anything you say. Go talk to Loretta, will you? I’m going to be late for school.”

  Flynn said, “I’ll take you.”

  Roxy said, “You’re really getting into this dad thing, aren’t you?”

  “Mom—”

  “Something wrong with that?”

  “There is if you screw up.”

  Sage said, “He’s not going to screw up.”

  Roxy and Flynn shared another long stare. He’d screwed up before. He didn’t deny it. Nor, Roxy noted, did he make any promises that he wouldn’t again.

  Roxy went upstairs, leaving Sage alone with the man who had provided some DNA, but nothing else in seventeen years except a decent breakfast.

  Another fancy business suit lay ready on Loretta’s bed. But instead of getting ready for work, Loretta was stretched out on the pillows wearing nothing but a slip that clung to her many curves. She fanned herself with a copy of TV Guide. She had the TV remote in her other hand, and she was watching Matt Lauer interview some starlet.

  When Roxy edged the bedroom door open, Loretta put Matt Lauer on mute and dropped the clicker on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came last night. Slept on your couch. You okay?”

  Loretta fanned herself harder. “I hate menopause. Am I all red?”

  “Purple. Here, I brought you some breakfast.”

  Loretta forgot about sweating and sat up. “Smells wonderful! Is Patrick Flynn here? This looks like something he
’d make. And I’m so sick of soybeans I could cry.”

  “Flynn’s downstairs, talking to Sage.” Roxy handed her the plate and pulled a fork from the hip pocket of her jeans.

  Loretta accepted the fork. “Is that wise?”

  Roxy kept the coffee for herself and sat down on the bed. She swung her sock feet up onto the quilt. “He says you need to stop buying instant coffee.”

  “I hide the good stuff in the back of the freezer alongside my Dove bar stash.” Loretta cut a delicate bite with the fork and nibbled it, eyeing Roxy. “Patrick didn’t sleep on the couch with you last night, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Thank heaven for small blessings.” Loretta began to eat with enthusiasm. “He’s got more baggage than most men in this neighborhood. Does Sage know his whole story?”

  “I haven’t told her anything.”

  “Good call. Let him do it when the time is right. You’ve got enough problems without him. Especially now.”

  “So, Sage told you the big news.”

  “I started worrying days ago. I hoped I might be wrong.”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “I heard her vomiting. She sounded exactly like you did. With a little squeak at the end of your retch.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to know that I have a memorable gag.”

  Roxy sipped coffee. She’d spent a lot of time in this room. Her relationship with Loretta hadn’t been quite the average foster parent and rebellious teenager dynamic. It wasn’t sisterly, either, but somewhere in between. Around her, Loretta’s bedroom was crammed with clothes. On rolling rods, hanging on padded hangers, organized by color—all probably according to some diabolically anal Martha Stewart plan. She had business suits lined up along one wall—each one specially tailored to fit her extravagant figure. Church clothes along another wall—Easter colors, lots of lace. Their labels meant nothing to Roxy, but she saw brands that were not available at JC Penney or Target.

  On the dresser, Loretta had arranged a photo tribute to her dead husband. Pictures of Lou looking a lot like Archie Bunker. One large picture of Sage sat in the middle, though. A ninth-grade school photo with Sage still in braces.

  Loretta set down her fork, also perhaps thinking of Sage at that moment. “Roxy, where did we go wrong?”

  Roxy eased back against the extra pillow and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. The ceiling was easier to look at than the walls, which featured Jesus on the cross—three different versions, including a modern Jesus who looked like Keanu Reeves.

  “It’s my fault,” Roxy said. “I didn’t think she was paying attention to boys yet. I thought she was playing basketball and studying.”

  “She was studying! But boys had her on their radar. You didn’t notice at the basketball games? It was only a matter of time before one of them worked up the courage to seduce her. A bad boy, of course. All of us are drawn to bad boys.”

  “Was Uncle Lou a bad boy?”

  Loretta’s husband, Lou, had died just two years into their marriage. He’d had a heart attack in a strip club at a bachelor party, but his buddies had dragged him across the street to a Burger King, where he’d died waiting for an ambulance. To this day, his parents thought their darling son went to meet the angels after choking on a French fry. They blamed his wife for not cooking him decent meals at home.

  “Lou was wonderful.” Loretta got misty-eyed. “At first, I thought the only reason he married me was to get into the mob. He was a nice Polish boy who wanted to be Don Corleone. I thought he’d settle down eventually. I’m just sorry we never had children,” Loretta said for the ten thousandth time. “You and Sage—you became my children. And look what happened. Just goes to show, a family needs a man around, doesn’t it? To balance the yin and the yang.”

  “I’ve got too many men around,” Roxy said. “Some are more helpful than others with my yin yang.”

  Loretta radiated disapproval of Roxy’s sex life. She knew few details and clearly wanted to keep it that way. “Don’t let Sage hear you talk like that.”

  “Maybe I should have. If she treated sex like I do, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  “I remember you had a few romantic dreams when you were her age.”

  “Are you kidding?” Roxy snorted. “Watching the way my dad treated my mother? He broke her nose three times before she died.”

  Loretta fell silent, her fork toying with the last bites of her breakfast.

  “Okay,” Roxy said. “I had a weird childhood.”

  “It would be hard to be well-adjusted, considering.”

  “I survived. Not everybody did.”

  As always when things got uncomfortable, Loretta changed the subject. “It’s going to be expensive, you know, if Sage is really expecting. Prenatal care. The hospital. And then the baby.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Will you let me help?”

  Roxy shook her head. “We’ve had this discussion a hundred times, Lo. Okay, maybe I’m a rotten mother, but at least I pay for everything. I can’t let you start chipping in—not if you’re going to buy into the partnership at the law firm. And I can do it. I’ve got possibilities.”

  Cautiously, Loretta said, “Are you considering working full-time for Carmine?”

  “You know about that?”

  “He’s ill, Roxy.”

  “You sure he’s not faking?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

  Although a lawyer and technically an officer of the court, Loretta tended to ignore the “crime” part of “organized crime” and looked upon Carmine’s activities as simply a family business—one with a few more twists and turns than other businesses, perhaps, but a respectable source of income.

  “I can’t get mixed up with Carmine. Not until Nooch gets off probation. He could go to jail if he associates with known criminals, and—”

  “Nooch, Nooch, Nooch.” Loretta set her empty plate sharply on the nightstand.

  “It’s about Sage, too. If I start working for Carmine, what will she think?”

  For all of Sage’s life, Loretta and Roxy had worked hard to keep Carmine’s business a secret from Sage. So far, it had worked.

  Roxy said, “Besides, I like my own job. Sage wants to invite Zack over for dinner, by the way. To break the news to him gently.”

  Loretta perked up at the mention of food. “I’ll fix some veal. A nice scallopine.”

  “No offense, but she wants to do the cooking herself.” Roxy gave Loretta a kiss good-bye and rolled off the bed. “I gotta go. I’ll tell Sage it’s okay with you for her to have her rendezvous with Zack.”

  “Let’s you and me have a nice dinner together. You can wear something other than your jeans for once. Rizza’s? If Flynn can work magic like this with eggs, think what he could do with a nice lamb chop.”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  “Run along. I need another shower. I’m going to be late for work.”

  “Hang on a minute. Did you hear anything at Valentino’s salon?”

  Loretta flashed her fingernails—coral pink. “New color. You like it?”

  “Sure, but I meant about Julius Hyde. You know—from Valentino’s grandmother.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s Valentino’s uncle who worked for the Hydes. He married and divorced one of the Calderelli sisters—the family that owned the penny candy store, remember them? Anyway, he’s called a chauffeur, but he’s really a mechanic who does a little driving for the family. Mostly when Mr. Hyde had too much to drink. His name is Valdeccio—Valentino’s real name.”

  “Did he know anything about the murder?”

  “I don’t know. Valentino didn’t mention anything. You know he’s always touchy about gossip that’s too close to home. That family has a lot of dirty laundry.”

  “Don’t we all. Okay, thanks.” Roxy lingered at the door. “One more thing.”

  Loretta was climbing off the bed. “What?”

  “Nooch’s hearing is on Friday.” />
  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “How about representing him?”

  Loretta began shaking her head before Roxy stopped talking. “I practice elder law. When Nooch is ready for a nursing home, he should call me.”

  “What about being a character witness?”

  “In your best interests, I should keep my opinions of Nooch to myself.”

  “You’d be a big help, Lo.”

  “You don’t want to hear what I think about your sidekick. Tonto he ain’t.”

  “It’s not what you’d say that’s important. Just show up. You’ll make a good impression on the judge. As long as you’re not hot flashy. C’mon. Wear your red suit. The one with the slit in the back of the skirt.”

  Loretta went into the bathroom. Through the door she said, “Don’t you have work to do? Surely there’s some other weak-minded soul who needs your help today.”

  Disappointed, Roxy grabbed the doorknob to leave. But she stopped. Loretta’s choice of words triggered an idea.

  Suddenly she remembered a weak-minded soul who might buy the statue.

  Loretta stuck her head out of the bathroom, a mascara wand in her hand. “You okay?”

  “Terrific,” Roxy said. “Gotta run.”

  17

  With Malibu Barbie watching, Arden made an overseas call to an old boyfriend.

  “Arden!” Tiki Papadakis cried warmly. “How often I think of your funny narrow bed at Brown! Do you still make that little snore in your nose when you sleep, I wonder?”

  “Hello, Tiki.” Although the memory of his golden shoulders was still quite powerful in her mind, she attempted to divert him back to civilities. “Is the weather warm in Athens?”

  “Glorious. When can you come? My family’s house on Mykonos is available this weekend. Bring sunscreen. You haven’t been topless since senior year, have you, my blushing little American?”

  “That’s a sweet invitation, but I’m sorry, I can’t get away right now. I’m swamped with— Well, listen, do you remember me telling you about my grandmother’s garden?”

  “With the sculpture, early classical period, perhaps a Hercules or a gem from Olympia. It had a pleasing angle of the hips and shoulders—quite unusual. Yes, of course I remember.”