A Man of Distinction

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “So you went.”

  “I did. And it turned out that Arthur the artist was Arthur Sutcliffe, nephew of Marcus Sutcliffe, of Sutcliffe, Watkins and Monroe, and the ‘family party’ was a huge corporate event being held at the Art Institute of Chicago.”

  Nick still remembered the shock of walking in. He’d lived in Chicago for a year and a half, and hadn’t made it to that part of town. Women in ball gowns and diamonds had swirled past him, champagne glasses in hand, on their way to kiss Arthur on the cheek and scold him for being late and looking like a slob. Nick had felt horribly out of place in his best clothes—a pair of unstained jeans, cowboy boots and a button-up flannel shirt. People had stared at him, that he knew, but he’d been too busy staring right back at men in tuxedos and priceless paintings—and the food. Tables twenty feet long with shrimp and caviar and more cookies and cakes than he’d ever seen at one time.

  In that stunned moment, Nick had seen the future he wanted. The jewels, the clothes, the food, the art—he’d walked into the perfect life. No one else in the room—with the exception of Arthur the starving artist—went to bed hungry or cold. No one else in the room worried about paying the electricity bill or whether the water was safe to drink. No one else at that party had ever lived in their car. Right then, Nick knew he could never go back to being poor and invisible. He was going to be somebody, and the somebody he was going to be was one of the somebodies in that room.

  “You crashed a party and got a job?” Again, she sounded like she didn’t believe it.

  He had to agree that it was pretty unbelievable. “Marcus was pissed that Arthur had brought me, but Arthur told him I was in law school and an Indian.” Which had been completely pointless. Nick still had his ponytail, and that, combined with his brown skin and last name, made that whole “is he or isn’t he?” guessing game redundant. “I think—no, I know—that Marcus needed someone of color on staff. And when I turned out to be a good lawyer, well, so much the better.”

  The part that Nick skipped over was the part that came right before that. Rissa, Arthur’s cousin, had introduced herself first. She’d been throwing off all sorts of interested signals to Nick, and she’d been the one who had introduced her father to Nick. Yes, Arthur had let him crash the party, but he’d gotten a job because the boss’s daughter thought he’d been tall, dark and mysterious, and she wanted to keep him around.

  Laying here with Tanya in his arms, Nick had a hard time remembering what it had been that he’d found so attractive about Rissa. She was beautiful, true, but looking back, it felt like a superficial kind of beauty. She had never made Nick feel like Tanya did right now, without even trying. Laying here with her, sharing his darkest secrets—Rissa would have made this entire exchange of information feel like a dangerous activity. With Tanya, it was different. Like instead of leaving him in a position of weakness, it only made him stronger.

  She rolled over in his arms. Her face was less than three inches from his. He could kiss her, but that felt like a cheap way out. “He gave me an internship during my last year of law school because I’m a minority, but I earned the job offer.” At least, he’d always believed that, until Marcus had ordered him to take the case of “those people.” Now, he wasn’t so sure. “When I got the job—and the salary that went with it—that’s when I asked you to come with me. Things had changed. I could afford a nice place, and I could give you everything we’d always dreamed about.”

  And you said no. He didn’t say the words out loud. He didn’t have to. He could see them reflected in her face, the dull light of the video monitor making her look even sadder.

  Maybe that had been why he’d taken up with Rissa. She was a woman who appreciated the value of things after all. She knew exactly what Nicholas Long could give her.

  “You had it so much better than I did, you know. Your mom loved you—still does—and she had a nice house and she took care of you.” All things he’d envied growing up. All things he swore his own son wouldn’t do without. “I had to have something to offer you, something besides good grades, and living in a car wasn’t it. You deserved better, Tanya, and I worked so hard to give it to you.” He blinked, trying to get his vision to clear. Somehow, it had gotten blurry. “When you stayed behind, I thought you didn’t believe I could do that. I thought you didn’t believe in me.”

  And I wasn’t coming back until I could prove you wrong. He didn’t have to say that either. She knew.

  Tanya touched her palm to his cheek, then she leaned in and placed her warm mouth on his ear. “I never doubted you, Nick. Not for a second.”

  This time, he did kiss her. None of those missed signals and mixed messages counted anymore. The past was done and gone, and good riddance. Today was what they had now, and God willing, tomorrow, too.

  He had all these grand plans of making love to her on the big bed he’d bought just for them—long, slow sex where he got to devour her and her new curves—but it wasn’t meant to be. Not tonight anyway. She dug her fingers into his back, his name whispered on her lips as their bodies moved together.

  He’d had it all wrong. Somewhere along the way, he’d gotten it into his head that loving Tanya was an all-or-nothing proposition, and see what that had gotten him? Years of missing this—of missing her.

  He’d let his pride, of all the stupid things, come between them. Only a fool would let that happen again. Nick liked to think he wasn’t a fool. He wanted to take her with him.

  But he knew, deep down, that she’d still balk at leaving. Despite the pollution and the poverty, he’d seen the look on her face when he’d repeated Emily Mankiller’s high praise. Working for her tribe was what she’d always wanted to do. She was making a difference, damn it. She wouldn’t bail now. If anything, she’d have renewed resolve to stay and fight for her land.

  She’d want him to stay and fight with her.

  Would he really give up everything—the condo, the job, the money—to come back to the rez?

  Her body tightened around his, spurring him on. He pushed the unknowns out of his mind and concentrated on the woman.

  Tanya.

  Twelve

  Nick hadn’t wanted to go to work Friday. Bear had woken up at five, fussy and clingy, and Tanya had seemed worn out before the day had even begun. He’d thought about calling in and spending the day on the couch with the two of them watching cartoons and generally hanging out. But playing hooky wouldn’t get him any closer to winning his case. So he’d packed up his bag, kissed Tanya goodbye and driven the hour to the office.

  Once there, he was able to focus. He called Doreen and told her he was going to get her a doctor’s appointment as soon as he could, and then he called a home improvement store and spent the extra cash on next-day installation for a water filtration system for her house. It wouldn’t catch everything, but it was a start. Anything was an improvement.

  He worked on the disclosure documents, too, putting Bear at the top of his evidence list, and Dr. Klein behind him as a witness. He paused before adding Tanya to the list. Someone would have to speak for Bear after all. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He hoped there was nothing wrong with his son. But he knew better. So he filled out the forms.

  The morning had been moving along when the phone rang at exactly ten o’clock. Nick’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t say why, but something told him this was not good news. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Long? Dr. Klein.”

  That feeling of unease grew. This early call seemed prompt—too prompt. Nick managed to swallow. His world seemed to shrink until it was a pinpoint black hole. “Yes, Dr. Klein. Do you have some information for me?”

  “I have some results on your son, Edward Rattling Blanket. His bloodwork showed unusually high levels of xylene—actually, any level of that is unusual—and calcium.” The doctor paused. The silence was horrifying. “Which, combined with the small, dark mass the CT showed on the baby’s nape, indicates that he may have a tumor growing on his pituitary gland.”

 
Darkness. That’s all Nick saw. His son had cancer. And it had been caused by pollution.

  He would grind Midwest Energy into the dust. By the time he got through with that company, nothing would remain. He would take them for everything they had and salt the earth behind him. If his son lived…

  Nick swallowed again. It was all he could do to keep from screaming as he said, “What happens next?”

  “I need an MRI to make sure the tumor isn’t pressing against any blood vessels. It’s uncommon, to say the least, to see a growth this size in a child this small. Then we’ll need to get him to a specialist in Minneapolis or—”

  “Chicago,” Nick said, his mouth operating on auto as his mind churned. Surgery. They were going to have to cut open his son.

  “Chicago is fine. I’ve taken the liberty of setting up the MRI appointment for tomorrow at ten at the hospital. The boy will have to be sedated again. There’s a chance the CT was misleading, but if it’s not…things will happen very quickly.”

  Nick hung up. He had to tell Tanya. He could downplay the pollution aspect, but at this point, that seemed moot. Although he knew the why was incredibly important, it paled in comparison to the how—how they were going to make Bear better.

  He was just about to pick up the phone when it rang again, startling him. “Hello?”

  “Nicholas? This is Marcus. How’s it going out there?”

  The brakes in Nick’s head slammed so hard that he swore he heard squealing. He shook his head, trying to get it back in the game. Marcus didn’t know he had a son, and he probably didn’t care one way or the other. The only thing Marcus cared about was winning. Was it possible that only a month ago, Nick had been the same way? “The case is going well. I’ve got some slam dunk evidence of Midwest Energy’s malfeasance.”

  “Slam dunk, eh? What did you do—break into their headquarters?”

  “No. I have people who have been drinking contaminated water with confirmed cases of cancer.” At the edge of his thoughts was the possibility that he needed to recuse himself. He was way too close to this case now—it was personal on so many levels. But he wasn’t going to, not now. Nick couldn’t fathom what Jenkins would do about Bear, but he knew Jenkins wouldn’t fight for Nick’s son as hard as Nick would. No, he was in all the way.

  Marcus had the decency to whistle in appreciation. “And you can tie it back to Midwest?”

  “Absolutely.” There was no room for doubt, not when the stakes were life and death. “I’m still collecting all the evidence, though.” He had to get Doreen into the neurologist as soon as possible. What if she had cancer, too? The clock was ticking—for all of them. Then a new thought occurred to him. “Marcus, is your wife still on the board for Children’s Memorial Hospital?”

  “Of course. You know Gloria loves children. Why?”

  “I need a neurologist—one who’s as good in the operating room as he’ll be on the witness stand. I have a confirmed case of brain cancer in a one-year-old child.” My son, he wanted to add. But he didn’t. He had to keep this professional. Objective. It felt like a betrayal. “I need the best of the best, someone who can go up and convince the jury that there’s no way a baby could develop this cancer without being contaminated.” Which was not untrue, but Nick wanted only the best doctor to operate on his son. “Juries love children, Marcus. I’m working on getting other people tested. This kid is just the tip of the iceberg, but he’ll make our case for us.”

  “A one-year-old? Who’ll testify for him?”

  Nick kept his calm. He was a trained professional. He ignored the memory of Tanya’s adamant arguments against using their son in this case and pressed on. “His mother, Tanya Rattling Blanket.”

  “Is she a reliable witness? You know how…unreliable some of those people can be.”

  Nick would keep his temper if it killed him—and at this rate, it might. Was this how Marcus talked about Nick with other people? “She’s not a drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s a very strong witness. College-educated, employed by the tribe. She’ll be great on the stand.” Once she knew she was going to be on the stand, that was.

  But the moment he said it, he knew he’d slipped up, letting his defensiveness get the better of him. He could not afford to let Marcus and his “those peoples” throw him—what would that say about how Nick would handle himself in the courtroom? Nothing good, that much was certain.

  Marcus paused. Nick swore he could hear the old man tapping his fingers on his desk. “You’re not taking this case too personally, are you? We can’t run the risk of letting one case give the firm a black eye if it’s not handled properly. The firm’s reputation must be protected at all costs.”

  The firm? What about the people? His people—they were the ones who needed protection. Nick bristled, but he kept it out of his voice. “Absolutely not. This is business—I know that. But no one needs to die to win this case.”

  “Of course. I’ll have Gloria pull some strings. Does that mean you’ll be back in town?”

  Nick debated saying no. He didn’t want to have to sit across from Marcus and wonder if the man saw a lawyer or an Indian. But Marcus was already questioning his ability to win this case, and Nick had to win. Not for the firm, though. For Bear. Which meant he had to play the game. “Yes. I want to make sure any potential evidence is collected properly. I need to document the surgery myself.”

  He needed to be there for Bear—and for Tanya. Damn it all, Marcus knew about Bear’s diagnosis before Tanya did. That was backward. Everything felt inside out right now.

  “I know Rissa has missed you. We’ll do dinner while you’re here.”

  “Sounds great.” Which was a bald-faced lie. Right now, schmoozing and boozing it up with the extended Sutcliffe family seemed not only like a waste of his time, but a waste of his life.

  He hung up and looked at the clock. 10:17 a.m. His whole world had changed in seventeen stinking minutes.

  He took a few deep breaths and dialed the phone before the damn thing could ring again. “Hello, Tanya? I have something to tell you.”

  Thirteen

  The last week had been a blur, much like the city lights outside the cab’s windows. Yeah, Tanya knew Chicago was big, but the whole thing was so much more than she’d thought. Before she could make sense of the size, the cab Tanya, Nick and Bear were riding in pulled up in front of a fancy-looking building. A large black man in a hat and a blazer opened the door of the cab the moment the vehicle stopped moving. “Good evening, Mr. Long.”

  Okay, that was just weird. Did she know that Nick had dropped the “hair” from his name?

  Heck, at this particular stage of things, she was lucky she still knew her own name. After all, any day that started with her getting on an airplane and flying to Chicago—all firsts for her—was pretty weird to begin with.

  “Darius, these are my guests, Tanya and Bear Rattling Blanket. They have complete access to my home.” Nick held out his arms and took the sleeping Bear from Tanya.

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Let me get those bags for you.”

  Tanya tried to smile, but the muscles around her mouth didn’t seem to be moving. Nick lived in a place with a doorman. Was it wrong that she felt like she’d left reality behind the moment she’d gotten on a plane? “Hi.”

  Then she made the mistake of looking up. What looked like a solid wall of glass seemed to go on forever until it punctured the sky. That image made her want to laugh, but she managed to choke the errant giggle back. Holy cow, she couldn’t even see the top of this building.

  If she was making a fool of herself—and she was pretty sure she was—Darius gave no sign. The man was some kind of professional. “Did the things I ordered come in?”

  “Yes, Mr. Long. All set up, as you requested.”

  Tanya didn’t have any idea what they were talking about, but that was probably for the best. Then she was ushered into an elevator that was all shiny wood and shinier brass. The only other elevators she’d ever been
in were crappy, beat-up ones that had gone up four floors in the university library. This—this was like the Mercedes of elevators. Then the doors closed and, after a brief pause, the elevator began silently zooming them up. And up. And up a whole bunch more.

  She was tired, yes, and it had been a long day, but that didn’t explain why she suddenly felt like giggling. This was patently ridiculous, she thought. Was this what Nick had been offering her four years ago? Doormen and classy elevators? And she’d turned him down…why?

  Keep it together, she scolded herself. So what if it felt like she’d entered some sort of posh Twilight Zone, an alternate reality that she’d never thought really existed? She still had to be rational at least.

  “Your ears may pop,” Nick told her, the elevator still impossibly climbing.

  This time, she did giggle. Nick shot her an odd look, which was even funnier. “You okay, Tanya?”

  “Fine, fine.” Which was patently untrue.

  They were, quite literally, in rarified air. Her ears did, in fact, pop—and so did Bear’s. He started squirming in Nick’s arms. She had her arms halfway up to take the boy from Nick when he did the oddest thing—he lifted Bear up and blew a raspberry on his little baby tummy.

  Bear’s look of pain immediately changed into a goofy grin of pure delight. This time, Tanya didn’t have to hold back her laugh. Nick blew another raspberry as the elevator doors opened. “This way,” he said as he draped Bear over his shoulder like the boy was a sack of highly active potatoes. Tanya wasn’t sure, but she thought he might be tickling Bear’s feet—something that had the boy reeling off silent peals of joy.

  They stepped out into a quiet hall that made Tanya feel like she had to stifle her voice again. The place had an odd feel to it, almost like the hushed reverence of a big church. Except this wasn’t a sacred place. Unless one worshipped money.

  Before she could think too much about that, Nick led them to one of only four doors on the floor and unlocked it.