Everything to Lose. Andrew Gross

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Everything to Lose - Andrew  Gross

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working full time, putting everything toward our son, while you’re what, zipping the kids off to squash practice in that new Porsche I saw outside …”

      He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “That’s a little cold, don’t you think, Hilary?”

      “No. No, it’s not cold, Jim. Look, I’m sorry … I know it’s hard to close the company. I know it’s like closing a chapter on yourself, an important one. I get that. But it was no picnic for me getting fired and seeing the past four years go up in smoke. My savings are shot, Jimmy. You’re Brandon’s father. This isn’t about my fucking shoe allowance or jetting down to St. Barth’s for my tan … Jim, I need you to stand up. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

      I was trying to hold it together. Promising myself not to cry or let my emotions come through. But my eyes started to sting and there was no way of holding them back. “I can’t go it alone anymore. I tried.”

      Jim reached over to the side table and pulled out a couple of tissues from a quilted Kleenex box. He handed them to me.

      I dabbed at my eyes. “Thanks.”

      “So how much we talking about?” he asked. He leaned back on the couch.

      “I don’t know … The school alone is close to fifty grand. I’m so behind on the tuition plan they’re starting to give me calls. There’s still the mortgage and the taxes … Look, I see you have a new family and I’m happy for you. I am. But I have my family. And you’re his father, Jim. I’m going to do whatever I can to do what’s best for my son. Your son … Whatever that is.”

      His gaze grew a little harder. “Just what do you mean by that, Hilary …?”

      “I don’t know what I mean. I’m just asking you, please, don’t make me beg.”

      We were kind of face-to-face, the tears cleared, my desperation out on the table. All of a sudden I could see what was turning through his mind. What must have been from the moment I called, because what other reason could there have been for me to ask to come over?

      He’d have to go to Janice. He probably didn’t have a dime apart from her anymore.

      He probably didn’t even own the Porsche parked in front of the house.

      “Look. He cleared his throat. “Things aren’t exactly rosy around here either.”

      “What does that mean, Jim?”

      He shrugged. “Janice had to take a job. She’s gotten her real estate license. At Pepper Loughlin’s place. You know, it’s on the avenue, where that stationery place used to be …”

      I stared blankly.

      “In fact, the whole damn house is up for sale. Trust me, her divorce settlement is just about enough to keep the kids in school and take care of our nut. Even the furniture’s up for sale.” He nodded to Fu Manchu. “Distant cousin on the wall included. And the fancy table out front, what’s it called, Biedemeister, or meier? I never know. That as well.”

      “Jim, you’re on your way out to Vail.”

      “Kind of like our last hurrah.” He snorted. “I mean, you can’t let the kids think things are bad. Not in this town anyway. You know what I mean. I’m tapped out, Hilary. The well is totally dry. Trust me, that Porsche won’t even be in the driveway when we come back.”

      I felt a weight crashing through my chest. An elevator falling. The thought snaked through me that if I stayed here even a minute longer, everything would come crashing down and I’d start to cry. “All I’m asking for is what you owe me. Don’t you even care about your son? Can’t you—”

      Suddenly the boys ran in. Lucas and Trey, Christopher Alexander III. Like marauding outlaws in The Wild Bunch riding through a Mexican town, except with Brunswick crests on their dress shirts. “Trey won’t give me the Xbox stick,” Luke, who was ten, whined. “And he called me a douche. Didn’t you, Trey?”

      “No, I didn’t! He’s lying!” Trey said defiantly, with a glare that read, When we get back upstairs, you’re dead, you traitor.

      “You know Hilary,” Jim said, catching Luke by the arm. “Brandon’s mom.”

      “Hi,” Trey said, barely shifting his glare from his brother. “Douche bag,” he mouthed silently.

      “Hi,” said Luke, not even looking at me, just sticking his tongue out at his brother while in Jim’s hulking grasp.

      “Hi, guys,” I said. “You’re both getting so big …” All I could think of under the circumstances. I couldn’t believe I came up with something so lame.

      “I’m sorry, Hil.” Jim shrugged, his expression hapless. “I hear things are starting to pick up in some places. Maybe I can start up again next year.”

      “Sure,” I said, standing up, trying to hold it together. “Next year.”

      “Hey, dudes.” Jim cackled. “Homework done? Time for one last game of Madden?”

      “Yay!” the two shouted as one.

      “C’mon, Jim, I’ll take you both on. You and douchie here

      Jim stood up too, carrying Luke like a sack of wheat with those ham-hocklike arms. “I’m really sorry about the job, Hil. How about I’ll be in touch when we get back. Okay?”

      “Don’t worry about it. I can see you’ve got your hands full. Something will come up. Always does, right?”

      I picked up my bag and made my way to the door.

      “Hey, Hil …”

      I turned, praying inside he’d had some change of heart and come to his senses; some realization of what he was putting me through.

      Jim winked, holding Luke upside down. “You’re looking good, Hil. You really are.”

      I knew if I didn’t get out of there now, I was going to cry.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      Back in my car, any semblance of control completely broke down. Tears filled my eyes even before I put the key in the ignition. I could take the whole new family thing—Jim playing überdad—even though it did eat at me where the hell he’d been for the last four years with Brandon. I could even take the spanking-new Porsche, which alone would have paid a couple of years of tuition.

      What I couldn’t take was that he’d basically just washed his hands of us. When he could see I was falling. How could you just look at me and say that, Jim? I put my head against the wheel and shut my eyes. About your own son?

      It was clearly all on my shoulders now.

      I started the car and it took everything I had not to ram it headfirst into Jim’s Porsche and leave it a mound of crumpled steel. I backed

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