King of Hearts

by Stevenson, Jennifer

  “Mom. I’m picking her up in ten minutes, soon as I leave here. You want to phone her and make sure?”

  “She was supposed to come with you,” she said, as if Nadine was his parole officer.

  “Look,” he said, feeling his good mood fray. “He’s my kid. I have an appointment. I showed up on time.”

  Mom scrutinized him mistrustfully. “You’re like your father. Get your way once and you think you don’t have to follow the rules.”

  “If you’d quit laying down the law, maybe I wouldn’t seem to be breaking ‘the rules’ all the time. I don’t remember the judge saying I had to bring a nanny with me.” He reached down to tickle the kid, who was banging him on the knee with a baseball.

  Mom stood in front of the door. “Tammy called. She doesn’t want you seeing Davy Junior at all.”

  “Hey, I got rights—” he began, but she interrupted.

  “I told her she couldn’t keep you from seeing him. But she’s right about one thing. You push the limits, David. So you showed up on time once—”

  “Twice.”

  “Twice. But you promised you would have Nadine with you, and you don’t. You have to do better if you want to be trusted.”

  “Look, what is it with Nadine? She’s just this waitress. She’s not the kid’s mother. I’m his father.”

  “I like her.” Mom folded her arms and narrowed her dark Italian eyes, the eyes she hadn’t given him but he’d passed on to Davy Junior. “She doesn’t deserve to have you happen to her.”

  His conscience kicked him. “Now, is that polite?”

  “She’s not like the tramps you run around with. She’ll never marry you.”

  King Dave rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to marry her.”

  “Well, you can’t go to bed with her. You can’t treat her the way you treat those women.”

  God dammit, how did Mom do it? She always seemed to know exactly what he wanted and then she said he couldn’t have it.

  “I’ll be nice to her. I’m always nice to women,” he muttered, swinging Davy Junior up into his arms. “Can we go now?”

  “Yay, we can go now!” Davy Junior yelled in his ear.

  Of course they couldn’t. Mom loaded him down with more kid luggage: the car seat, the mitt, the ball, the damn duck, a bottle of pink medicine that he was supposed to get before he ate, and then she started adding extras. Baby wipes, a hat, another hat, sun block.

  “Jeeze, Mom, no suitcase? You didn’t send us out with all this last time.”

  “I want you to have it. If Nadine isn’t with you—”

  “I told you, I’m picking her up right now. Right—” he checked his watch and dropped the sunblock and the two hats, “—fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Maybe you should call me when you’ve picked her up.” Mom wedged the sunblock and the hats into the crook of his arm.

  “Maybe I’ll be half an hour late by the time you let me out of here,” he said pointedly.

  He kicked open the screen door. She followed him out, clucking. They got all the luggage into the back seat, after dropping it a few more times, and he stood up to say goodbye.

  “Take it easy with the junk food,” she said. “He went to a birthday party yesterday and his digestion is still upset.”

  “He’ll get pickled pig’s feet and beer, same as last time.”

  Mom shook her head. “Have fun.” She grabbed his ear and made him bend for a smooch.

  “Love you, Mom,” King Dave said gruffly.

  “Be nice to that girl,” she said, backing away as he got into the Camaro.

  “I love you, Nonna!” Davy Junior screamed in the back seat.

  “I love you, boys,” Mom said, or so it sounded, but King Dave was roaring away from the curb, glad to get out of there at last.

  King Dave took the Salvation Army dress big.

  He brought the Camaro to a screeching halt and leaned out the window, his mouth open. His angel blue eyes widened, and his gaze flickered over her from head to toe.

  It was a pretty nice dress. It was a mostly-blue jersey knit with a flowery pattern on it, a good dress to wear on an outing with a small sticky boy, but cut so that the skirt draped around her hips and clung inward before it flared out. The dress seemed to yell, Look at me, I have a bottom! And a top. That is, she had a top. The dress almost didn’t. If she could keep Davy Junior from dripping Sno-Cone into her cleavage, she’d look pretty good even at the end of the day.

  Bulging out of the dress, she felt like a double Sno-Cone.

  She drew in a deep breath, sauntered around the Camaro with a twitch of her bottom, and ducked into the passenger seat.

  “Jesus fucking H. Christ, Nadine, that is an amazing dress,” King Dave blurted.

  She felt herself flush to the tips of her ears. “Don’t swear in front of Davy Junior.” But she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Girl,” King Dave said fervently, “you have made my day.”

  She gestured. “Drive, mister.” Self-consciously she set her purse on her lap, a goldtone-latched bag of dynamite. At the last minute she had tucked a pair of clean underpants into it. Lord almighty, she already felt like a slut.

  “Did your mother give you a hard time?” she said.

  “Honest to Chr—to goodness,” he complained, “do I look like a serial killer? She acted like I can’t be trusted to keep him out of traffic. You should see the crap she made me take with.”

  “See the crap we take with?” Davy Junior said.

  “Don’t say crap, Davy Junior,” Nadine said.

  “Daddy? Can I say crap?”

  “No!” King Dave yelled, and Nadine winced. He glanced over at her, did another double-take at her Sno-Cones, and then said more quietly, “Davy Junior, guys don’t swear in front of women.”

  Nadine put her hand over her smile. King Dave Flaherty, you are a born sucker for your little boy. Davy Junior was finding out how wonderful his daddy was. Because of her.

  At the children’s museum on Navy Pier, King Dave fished Davy Junior out of the back. Nadine took the opportunity to pop open the glove box, grab blindly at a handful of condoms, stuff them into her purse, and ease the glove box shut again.

  “Nadine?” he called from the back seat and she looked up guiltily. “Would you give the kid some of this pink stuff?”

  “I threw up all over yesterday.” Davy Junior announced.

  “Congratulations.” Nadine dosed him and stuck the pink bottle in her purse on top of the condoms.

  King Dave murmured, “Mom didn’t want me to take him without you. Now I see why.” His eyes looked hungry.

  She smiled shyly at him. “You’re really great with him.” Make me want it, she prayed silently. Make me want it so much I won’t think too much, or chicken out, or be sorry tomorrow morning. She swayed closer as his hand turned and cupped, reaching for her behind.

  “Nadine is a very big girl,” Davy Junior said.

  King Dave let his hand fall. “You know, this kid has an incredible memory,” he said, as if he hadn’t tried to cop a feel.

  “So we’d better be extra careful not to give him too much to remember.”

  There seemed to be a million children in the museum, all screaming with excitement. Davy Junior joined a group climbing on a set of colossal living room furniture.

  “That was easy,” King Dave said in her ear. “Now we wait for him to tucker out.” He nuzzled her neck. Her eyes drifted shut.

  “Rooar!”

  She opened her eyes to see Davy Junior sitting on a giant chair. He made muscle arms. “Daddy, come be with me!”

  King Dave waded through kids and plopped down on the chair. “I am King Dave!” he proclaimed. “And this is my crown prince!”

  “I am Davy Junior!” roared his son.

  King Dave looked like a kid himself, a big kid among little kids, his eyes glittering, sitting dwarfed in the colossal chair.

  How could she have considered sleeping with this person?

  He had
no idea how immature he was.

  Davy Junior jumped up onto the arm of the chair, then slipped, and toppled off with a scream of terror onto a pile of other kids. Nadine ran to scoop him up. The boy’s arms snaked around her neck. “I want my Daddy!” he bawled in her ear. “Daddy, Daddy!” From the big chair seat, King Dave reached for him. “I want my Daddy! I want!”

  Nadine transferred him to his father’s lap. Davy Junior’s face was a mask of rage and shock.

  King Dave folded himself around the boy, who arched in his lap, flailing and crying. He held his son tenderly. Nadine’s heart jumped. His big hands turned the little hands over carefully, separating the small fingers, wiggling them one at a time, closing them into fists to punch Daddy’s chin.

  “Oh, no!” King Dave said in a mouse voice. “He kay-oh’s his Dad!” He tipped backward, dragging Davy Junior onto his stomach.

  Davy Junior shrieked and giggled.

  King Dave sat up. His legs wrapped around the boy. “Here comes that big girl.” Nadine saw the two faces side by side. King Dave lifted his son’s hand and kissed it. Davy Junior snuggled rapturously under his chin.

  The boy is four. Another man might think he’s too old to kiss.

  Suddenly Davy Junior was all squirms. He clambered down from the chair and hurtled away. King Dave watched her, looking wise and wise-ass, childlike but kidding.

  Who are you, King Dave?

  Nadine glowed. To King Dave she seemed transformed. Body of a goddess, but the smile was worshipping. Can’t beat that combination.

  “Princess,” he said softly, “we’d better keep an eye on him, huh?” He jumped down beside her.

  Her face tipped up.

  He went for a swift, soft smooch. Their lips met. Time stopped. A bolt of lightning nailed him to the floor, all the hairs on his body stood up, and his skin turned hard.

  Then he was moving away from her, towing her by the hand. Noise rushed back in: screaming kids, splashing water, mothers yelling. Back there he could still feel his soul rooted to the spot, kissing Nadine. He became aware of his heart pounding. He felt like a big heavy electromagnet had turned on in his chest, drawing him toward her. If he got too close, he might stick.

  His cell phone rang. King Dave held it to his ear in a Nadine-induced trance.

  “You stupid fuck,” his father’s voice announced. “What the fuck were you doing out at the North Avenue Beach volleyball tournament? I told you to stay away from da thee-yayter!”

  King Dave’s stomach tightened by itself. He took the phone away from his ear and stared at it.

  “You listenin’ to me?” his father roared tinnily.

  “I took my kid to the beach. It’s a public place.”

  “You’re suspended, goddammit!”

  King Dave couldn’t swear back at him. The joint was all moms and kids. “Yeah.” He scowled. “I know.”

  “Well don’t fuckin’ forget it! My son does not advertise that he ain’t woikin’!”

  “You suspended me, Pop. You wanted to make a point to the Opera House, remember?”

  “Are you talkin’ back to me, you douchebag little shit? —Hang on, I got a call—” and the old man put him on hold. King Dave clutched the phone, trying to bring his blood pressure down. He realized the phone had gone dead.

  “Daddy, can we buy some groceries?” King Dave barely heard the kid through the thunder in his ears.

  He set the phone on vibrate. He didn’t quite dare turn it off completely.

  In the pretend supermarket, Davy Junior grabbed a teeny shopping cart and pranced ahead, pulling things off shelves. Nadine followed, putting them back on the shelf.

  King Dave’s phone buzzed on his hip, and he flinched. “Yeah?” he said cautiously.

  “Hey, it’s me, Mikey Ray.”

  “Yeah?” King Dave said again.

  Mikey Ray said in a gleeful good-gossip voice, “I heard you decked that stromboli, Ernestine Rooney’s ex-husband. Smooth!”

  King Dave tightened. “I didn’t touch him. Weasel did it.”

  “No shit?” Stop there, Mikey Ray. Don’t ask why. “Why?”

  King Dave breathed deeply, trying to think like a stagehand. “Shit, Mikey Ray, Weasel don’t need a reason to punch somebody.”

  “I heard he was raggin’ you and you’re too busted up in the ribs to hurt him yourself.” So Mikey Ray did know the truth.

  Christ, his rep was in tatters and he didn’t even dare show his face anywhere to defend it. In a voice rich with sarcasm he said, “That’s right. He took my dolly away and Weasel can’t stand to see me cry.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I’m with a woman. Call me later.” He slapped the phone against his hip to kill it.

  Mikey Ray was his friend. What were his enemies saying?

  “Daddy, do you want some Fritos?” The kid stood by the shopping cart with an armload of chips and an anxious face.

  King Dave forced a smile. “Sure.”

  So the whole world knew he’d been suspended, so what. He’d tried being a father like his old man. It sucked. The kid wanted him. He wanted his kid. This time it would be different.

  Nadine led them outside to a picnic bench where the kids were less deafening. Davy Junior ate squishable yogurt.

  “He looks a little pale,” she said.

  King Dave remembered Mom’s warning. “Shoot, he threw up yesterday. Some birthday party. How ’bout it, kid?” he said, “You gonna ralph?”

  Davy Junior turned toward him and ralphed squish-yogurt all over his father’s hands and lap.

  King Dave’s cell phone rang.

  He met Nadine’s eyes and started laughing. “Can you answer that? My hands are all over squish yogurt.” He turned his hip so she could pull his phone off its holster while he grabbed wads of napkins and wiped his kid’s chin and knees.

  “It’s Bobbyjay,” she said flatly when he was cleaned up.

  “What?” He took the phone. “Yo.”

  Bobbyjay said urgently, “Get over to the Arena. Clancy blew the call. I can get you eight straight plus the show for sure.”

  “I’m suspended, buddy.”

  “I’m the steward. FX never told me nothin’. He can bitch tomorrow, but what can he do to me? Of course I’m gonna offer the fill-in to you, you’re my best buddy.”

  “The Arena.” King Dave’s heart leaped. It could work. He’d be on the street, show his face. Defend his cred. He was so sick of eating dirt, he’d walk across town barefoot to stick it to the old man. His ears rang with renewed rage.

  “You with me?” Bobbyjay said.

  “Yup.” He stood, digging in his pocket for his keys. Then he caught Nadine’s eye.

  She looked astonished.

  Davy Junior raised his head. “Daddy, I ralphed.”

  Hell, he couldn’t just leave them.

  “Call started half an hour ago,” Bobbyjay said. “I gotta tell the road guys something. You’ll look good.”

  Something burst in King Dave’s chest. “Tell ’em you got me,” he barked. He pulled his wallet out and threw down four twenties among the bunches of ralphy napkins. “Take him home in a cab.” He stooped to smooch Davy Junior. “Bye, champ.”

  “Bye, Daddy.”

  The look on Nadine’s face told him he could skip the smooch there.

  Fuck it. He could only put out one fire at a time. Right now, his street cred was burning.

  He ran out of the building, phone still clapped to his ear.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nadine sat for a long time, watching light play on the lake, feeding Fritos and sips of Sprite to Davy Junior.

  On one level she felt hollow and sad. Of course he’d run off to work. Work was what he did. Work was what he was. Just because he’d been suspended—and wouldn’t he love to sneak behind his Daddy’s back and work?—well, she hadn’t really thought he would give up a chance to work, not for her or his child.

  On another level she knew he’d be back. He’d feel terrible. And then she’d have hi
m at the kind of disadvantage that could save his soul, if she handled it right.

  There were lots of ways she could play this.

  She could take Davy Junior home. That would put him in bad with his mother, so bad he’d have to turn himself inside out to see the boy again. But it would hurt and dishearten Linda. Nadine didn’t want to do that.

  She could take a cab to the Arena. The last thing a stagehand wanted was for the little woman to show up at the jobsite, child in tow, heaping reproach on him. Even if she was nice as pie—if she kept the little boy quiet, waited patiently all night while they unloaded trucks and set up the stage and played the music and loaded the trucks back up again—it would drive him wild, knowing she was there, knowing that all the guys knew. No, she couldn’t do that to Linda Flaherty.

  Unless she called and said she was taking the boy to King Dave’s for the night. Hm.

  Or she could sit right here. That would send him into a blind panic, but only if he called Linda and found out Davy Junior wasn’t home yet. And how many hours would it take for him even to give a thought to such things?

  And that, too, would make Linda crazy.

  Not as many options as she’d thought.

  Nadine, you’re thinking like a waitress.

  She went through the toy supermarket with Davy Junior and bought him more junk food. Then she sat down to watch the waves and think like a preacher’s daughter.

  King Dave made excellent time out to the Arena. Clancy had been assigned to electrics, so his first job was to unroll a massive coil of cable up the center aisle, lay that down, then tape it to the carpet. Backbreaking work, and his cracked ribs didn’t exactly love it.

  But he felt as if he was at least eight thousand dollars behind on the summer’s income. He’d spend the rest of the year catching up.

  Somehow this couldn’t blot out the picture forming in his head. From on high, as if he’d left his body and travelled back in time to watch, he watched himself turning away from Nadine and Davy Junior, squeezing his phone to his ear. He saw himself reach for his car keys. He saw himself stop, pull out his wallet, throw money at the table in front of them, and turn away again before the bills had landed.