“What’s wrong?” David glanced between her and the new car, turning off his ignition by feel. “You know that car? Uh… Nice plates.”
“Yeah. My ex,” she replied, glaring daggers at the red muscle car. “Bryson.”
He’s going to ruin everything. She paused, as that thought struck her, and wondered what “everything” was. Then again, it didn’t matter. The kids’ dad would find a way to screw it up, no matter what she’d meant by it. Yeah, Bryson Simmons was a real bastard.
She took a deep breath, then climbed out of her mother’s car.
39
Christine missed the doorknob and stared at her hand for a moment, confused. Then she realized that her hand was shaking, the reason she’d missed it. She took a deep breath. Having David behind her was a comfort, but it was nerve-wracking to know she was about to face that bastard, Bryson.
David said, “You okay? Do you want me to go in first?”
She shook her head. “No. Just give me a second.” She took another deep breath, and let it out slowly as she counted to three. On “three,” she opened the door and walked inside, head high and shoulders erect.
The first thing she saw was Bryson, sitting on Fran’s recliner, the one no one was allowed to touch. Far from being angry about that, Fran stood behind him, and she was handing him a coffee mug as he smiled up at her.
Damn her. Christine’s nervous tension transformed instantly. Her heart still pounded, and it still felt hot in the room, but for a new and entirely different reason. How could her mother welcome the jackass into her home? That SOB was going to endanger her kids somehow, most definitely for purely selfish reasons. She felt it in her bones like an old, injured vet felt storms a-comin’.
Christine snapped a smile onto her face, right before both their heads turned toward the opening door, and stepped inside. “Good afternoon, Bryson.”
She didn’t look at Fran, though, avoiding looking at her as though she weren’t even present. How dare Fran invite Christine’s ex inside, knowing how she felt about him? Then again, why should she be surprised? Disagreements about Bryson, their marriage, the divorce, and even the custody arrangements were half the reason she and her mother had been semi-estranged.
Still smiling at Bryson, she said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. I mean, it’s not time for your visitation, yet. Maybe you forgot when that was?”
Bryson grinned. “Always with the jokes. That’s what I love about you, Chrissy—your sense of humor. Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
Christine took her time throwing her set of house keys into the bowl Fran kept on the little table by the front door. “So you know you shouldn’t be here, right? Court orders, and all that.”
Bryson replied, “Yeah, I don’t get to see them until after Independence Day Weekend. But what’s a few days, with everything that’s going on around us? I’m pretty sure the courts won’t have anything to say about me being here, all things considered.” His voice picked up an edge of sarcasm, the cocky, ridiculous belief he’d always had that somehow laws and rules didn’t apply to him because he made so much money—and because he was a cocky, self-absorbed bastard.
Before she could reply, he said, “Besides, Franny invited me in. I’m here to visit her, not my kids. It’s not my fault they’re here, too, alone with Franny just when I happened to come by to see her.”
His tone was utterly polite—and utterly irritating, like fingernails on a chalkboard every time a word came out of his stupid, lying facehole. The man never failed to get under her skin, and it had been a long, long time since he’d done it in a good way…
Christine looked at Fran for the first time since coming inside, and replied, “I see. And how often do you come to visit my mother?”
Fran’s awkward smile fell. “Not that it’s any of your business who I let visit me, but Bryson came once a week, before the event. He likes to check up on me and help out around the house a bit.”
“I see.” Christine’s stomach churned. Had this been going on under her nose, since she’d arrived weeks ago? If so, how had she not seen it? Damn that woman—Christine had only just started really patching up with Fran, and now her mother pulled a stunt like that. Argh, why had she thought her mother could change? She racked her brain, trying to think of something she could tell Fran that would get her to kick Bryson out. Nothing came to mind. At least she could be reasonably certain she had not, in fact, been sneaking him in for the last few weeks, while she’d been there. She’d have noticed that… Right?
Well, there was little she could do about it. She could only roll with the punches—and keep a hawk’s eye on the big weasel in Fran’s recliner. And the big weasel standing behind it.
Fran asked, “Anyway, would you like some coffee, dear? I have to use it up before it goes stale anyways.”
Christine forced a smile. “How very unexpected. I’d be delighted to have some. I’ll get it, so you two can enjoy your visit together.”
She walked into the kitchen, but didn’t fail to notice the glance Fran and Bryson exchanged just as she passed them, on the way to the kitchen. Fran hadn’t parted with coffee since Christine had arrived, despite the pounds of it she kept in the hidden stores within her off-limits basement. Too precious to drink, she’d said. Can’t afford to let any of it go stale, she’d said. But oh no, for Bryson, nothing was too precious or too expensive.
“Bastard,” she muttered as the kitchen door shut behind her.
“Who?”
The voice startled Christine, and she spun reflexively, only to find Mary on the kitchen’s far end, using a wooden spoon to stir something in a plastic bowl. “Bryson. You didn’t know he was here?”
Mary shrugged. “Yeah, I was here when he arrived, of course, but what did you expect me to do about it?”
Christine took a deep breath. “Nothing you could do. Sorry. Nothing I can do about it, either. Fran is really pissing me off with this, though.”
Mary paused her stirring to look at Christine for a moment. Her lips pursed. When Christine gave her a questioning look, Mary shrugged again. “I’m just wondering why it upsets you so much that Fran is nice to him. I know he’s your ex, but really, what can he do? Let it go; don’t let it ruin your day. A lot of people aren’t around, anymore. Would you prefer the kids had lost their dad?”
Yes. “No, I suppose not. For their sakes, at least.”
“Those are the only sakes that matter, I-M-O.”
Christine grinned, in spite of herself. “Did you just say a chat acronym? Don’t do that.”
Mary smirked, then turned back to her stirring. Over her shoulder, she said, “Just remember that he can’t do anything to hurt you. The kids are yours, the courts say so, and he will just have to suck it up.”
Christine felt a moment of relief, but then another thought hit her. Since when did Bryson concern himself with court orders? He was so self-centered that he didn’t think rules applied to him. He’d proven that over and over, breaking restraining orders, late to bring kids back from visits, and just generally pushing every boundary there was—legal, social, or moral. Immoral, rather. “Yeah, he’s not big on following rules, though.”
Mary’s shoulders tensed, rolling forward, and she asked, “You don’t think he’ll take off with the kids, do you? I mean, that’s not where you’re going with this, is it? I don’t think he could.”
Christine felt the room flash hot for a moment as the question registered. “Take them? I…hadn’t really thought of that.”
In truth, it had crossed her mind, but only briefly. But with Mary’s mention, she considered it once again. Could he take them? There was no reason he couldn’t. Just tell the kids to get into the Mustang for a fun ride, and leave…
Mary said, “Good. I doubt he has anywhere to take them, anyway. That’s probably why he showed up, really. There’s food and safety, here.”
And yet, he’d survived the last several weeks without Fran’s food and safety. He had somewhere to hide out, o
r he wouldn’t have. He wasn’t the sort to rely on the half-ration allotments Denver was giving its citizens. He certainly hadn’t lost weight, like everyone else she saw even in Weldona.
One thought struck her with the force of a hammer blow, then.
He’s not taking them from our home.
Christine cocked her head, startled. Home? When had this become home? This was a waystation. And yet, she’d felt that thought intensely, at a gut level. It was that moment that she decided. Bryson would never be allowed to take her or her kids from this place. It was home—at least for now—and that was why she’d been fighting for it, battling Cobi behind the scenes to determine the future heart-and-soul of Weldona.
She was about to say so, when the kitchen door flapped open, and Bryson came in with an empty coffee mug in hand.
He smiled. “Don’t mind me. You hens keep clucking. I’m just dropping off the mug so someone can wash it.”
Christine tensed. Smashing that mug would feel so good… Maybe upside his head. “You could rinse it yourself. A small price to pay for a cup of real coffee, I’d think.”
Mary came up beside Christine and, behind the counter, slid her hand into Christine’s and gave a slight squeeze. It felt reassuring. It was nice to know she wasn’t alone, facing him. Mary wasn’t the bravest soul in the world, but she was a good friend, at least to Christine.
Bryson’s eyes went from Mary’s eyes…down. And back up again. Then, he looked back at Christine, the corner of his mouth ticking almost imperceptibly upward.
Mary said, “Oh, it’s no problem. Leave it on the counter; I’ll wash it.” Then, she returned to the gas stove and turned it off, stirring the pot again—and Bryson’s gaze followed her.
Christine imagined how it might feel to rip out Bryson’s damn eyeballs. She’d never do that, of course, not that he hadn’t earned a good scratching. For a moment, she considered telling him to keep his eyeballs off her friend’s…assets…but decided against it. That would just be stirring another pot altogether, one she didn’t want to deal with on top of everything else. She shoved the thought from her mind and grabbed the mug to set it in the sink.
40
The patrol car cruised down the road, David behind the wheel, but his mind wasn’t on the road. Christine’s reaction to the red Mustang set off all his alarm bells, and Lord knew, he’d seen enough bad relationships exploding to have a feel for them, to know when things just weren’t okay. It didn’t take a career in law enforcement to recognize those signs, either.
In the weeks he’d been in Weldona, she hadn’t mentioned him more than a couple times in passing, and although he hardly expected her kids to speak freely around a cop, he’d never heard them mention him, either.
Orien’s voice penetrated his dense thought-cloud. “Hey, boss. She left her purse.”
“What?”
Orien lifted a black leather handbag from between his seat and the door. “Purse. Left in car.”
David drifted right, looked over his left shoulder, and made a sharp left to perform a U-turn. When he pulled into Fran’s driveway, the Mustang remained where it had been. Orien held out the purse, and David took it, then climbed out of the car, his partner following close behind. He had to disentangle his sidearm holster from the seatbelt—damn thing, always getting caught up in the smaller car, unlike his SUV—and headed to the door. He knocked gently.
Fran opened the door and smiled upon seeing them. “Off duty already?”
“No, sadly.” David returned her smile. “Chrissy left her purse in the car when I dropped her off. Is she around?”
Fran hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “Kitchen. Help yourself, if you boys want a snack.”
David thanked her, then headed back. He met Bryson’s level gaze as he walked by. When he got to the kitchen, he pushed the swinging door open a bit, but froze with it only half open when he heard Christine and Mary talking. He had no intentions of interrupting something important.
When he heard them complaining about Bryson expecting them to wash his cup, he was about to enter, when Mary said, “I just want to repeat it. I don’t think he could take the kids if he wanted to. And I don’t think he has a safe place to take them, anyway, even if it wasn’t violating the court order.”
Christine replied, “Bryson didn’t give a damn about the law.”
David felt his blood pressure rising. Yeah, he’d gotten that vibe off Bryson. The kind of guy with more money than sense, more ambition than ethics, maybe more self-entitlement than drive. Not that he knew the man. Why was he so ready to believe the worst about a man he didn’t know? There were always two sides to every divorce and every custody dispute.
Well, he couldn’t stand eavesdropping forever. He pushed the door open and walked in, purse in hand, stepping aside to make room for his partner.
One look at Christine from behind showed just how tense she was, spine ramrod straight, shoulders hunched forward. She turned, and some of the tension in the set of her mouth relaxed. “Oh, my purse. Did I leave it behind?”
David nodded, smiling wanly. “Yes, you left the car in a bit of a hurry.”
The door behind him opened. David glanced over his shoulder, only to find Bryson entering.
Bryson looked relaxed and easy. “Hey, Chrissy. I’m going to take the kids to the park. The big one over on west side. Just letting you know.”
Christine said, “To hell you are. This isn’t your visit weekend, and taking them to a park with all this going on doesn’t inspire me with confidence in your decision-making.”
“Well, I wasn’t able to get to my last few visits. You know, called on account of sun-spots. The park is in town, though, so I’m sure it’s safe enough. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bryson’s lips curled into a vague, irksome smirk.
David glanced between them. Christine’s cheeks had turned redder, but she said nothing. David felt a momentary urge to help her, and before he thought it through, he said, “Parks attract a rough element, normally. The HOA president has closed Weldona’s parks until the crisis is over…and wisely so.”
Bryson rolled his eyes—David almost let his jaw drop, but kept his neutral “cop face” in place—and said, “Yeah, I’m sure Cobi won’t mind. He sure didn’t mind cashing my check, during the fundraiser for that fancy patrol car I basically bought you. Maybe you could give us a ride over? The kids would love it if you turned on the sirens and so on.”
David stared in disbelief, but saw no sign the man was in any way trying to be humorous. “That would be inappropriate use.”
Once again, David reminded himself that just because someone was dressed well, that didn’t prevent them from being a dirtbag. This dirtbag didn’t seem at all fazed by David’s presence, either.
Bryson shrugged. “I get it. That’s a decision above your pay grade. No problem-o, I’ll just swing by and chat with Cobi. That’ll clear everything up. And if not, hell, there’s other parks.”
Christine paled. “You are not taking my kids out of Weldona.”
Bryson shrugged. “Why not? I don’t care what the courts say, I have a father’s rights. They’re not your kids, they’re our kids, and I’m pretty sure my lawyers will figure out a way to make the judge see how you’re doing that ‘alienation of affection’ thing. You can’t do this to me. But more importantly, you can’t stop me. I’m spending time with the kids, and that’s final.”
Christine looked to David, her expression pleading, and in a small voice she said, “Can’t you make him leave? He’s not supposed to be here. This isn’t his time.”
Bryson snorted. “I can visit Franny whenever I like. How is it my fault you had to run home to your mom to take care of the kids? I didn’t have to. Maybe they should be with me, like I told the judge in the first place.”
David stepped toward Bryson, standing only two feet away, well within people’s comfort distance, and looked him straight in the eyes. “Sir, did you just state, in front of a law enforcement officer, that you fully
intend to disregard a court order? I’m sure I misheard you, because if you somehow managed to get yourself arrested, it could be a while before a district attorney can decide whether to file charges.”
Bryson’s eyes darted around, but he didn’t step back as David expected. “You do know that, if I’m held longer than a few days, that’s my ‘get out of jail free card,’ right?”
David stayed firmly planted within the man’s personal space. “True. And when you don’t get your day in court right away, your attorney can certainly file a writ of habeas corpus to demand I see a judge about the issue, though that could take a while with the courts shut down. In the meantime, of course, both you and your possessions, including your vehicle, will be thoroughly searched. I do hope you have no marijuana seeds or paraphernalia in your vehicle, sir.”
Bryson finally took one step backward, away from David. “Not that I do, but pot’s legal in Colorado. You’re ignorant of your own laws?”
David allowed himself to smile, at last. “We’re under Martial Law. Possession standards have reverted to Federal, not State. You are aware of the Federal stance on the legality of controlled substances, yes?”
Bryson glared at David, then at Christine. “Fine. You win, for now. But you can’t keep me from my kids, Chrissy. I’m going to go have a talk with the mayor about this. I’ll have this glorified security guard’s job by morning.” He stormed from the kitchen, followed shortly by the sound of the front door slamming shut.
Christine said, “Why are you letting him go? He’s going to break the court order, and he’s going to check his car for pot seeds right now. He’s getting away.” Her voice was pleading.
David frowned. “He hasn’t yet violated any law. This is a civil matter, not a police issue, until he does so. I’m sorry, but I won’t arrest someone because it’d make your life easier.”
Christine’s mouth twitched on one side. Without a word, she turned and strode out of the kitchen, leaving David alone with his partner.
Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story Page 26
