Chapter 15

Haylee

“I’m afraid we’re going to be shut down for good this time.”

My heart races and my palms moisten underneath the strength of my panic. Atlee’s been doing so well with this ongoing therapy for her Asperger’s. I can’t even imagine how I’ll handle her if she can’t attend her occupational therapy with John. I can’t afford private clinicians, and this is the only in-network therapy clinic in Vegas. I imagine myself driving into Arizona in my beat-up Honda in order to get Atlee the medical treatment she needs to stay highly functioning. I want her to go to regular school, have a regular life, and I worry that she won’t be able to without this therapy.

“That can’t be possible,” I say, sitting down and resisting the urge to put my head between my knees. I still can’t believe it’s happening as my world crumbles around me. First Ford returns, turning my life upside down, and now this is blowing it straight up again. Why can’t I ever catch a break like a normal person?

Atlee’s therapist nods his head, looking empathetic and angry at the same time. “Someone from the Nevada Health Commission came here and found some minor infraction. We didn’t even know that we had to adhere to it. Some obscure rule that all the other therapists that had worked in other states before coming to Nevada had never even heard of. They’re instituting a mandatory shut down under some law that was put into the books back in the fifties. Modern medicine has come into the next century, but the Nevada Health Commission has remained behind in the dark ages. We can stay open until the end of the month, then we’re closed until the investigation is complete. Atlee isn’t the only child with special needs who won’t be able to receive treatment if we stay closed permanently.”

John’s jaw clenches, his temple pulsing with frustration. I want to throw my arms around him and comfort him. I want to tell him that everything’s going to be okay. But it’s not, and he and I live in the real world where we’re not always guaranteed a happily ever after. Sometimes, people can’t catch their breath because challenges come at them like mosquitos in July. Sometimes, the little people get shit on over and over again until they’re so mired down in their own excrement they can’t ever pry their way out.

“That’s horrible,” I say, not knowing what else to add. I try in vain to calm the chaos in my mind, willing it to stand down. It doesn’t, and I’m reduced to a rioting, tumbling storm of thoughts about how my little girl’s life will never be the same.

Atlee laces her fingers through mine, becoming an unlikely lifeline in the midst of my emotional breakdown. I look down into her cherubic face, and I try to pull myself together. Kids should have to delve into adult issues. It’s my job to protect her, and I’m not doing a very good job of that. Atlee’s my priority. Always and forever.

“It’s okay, Mommy. John taught me how to do a lot of my exercises all by myself. I can do it until we find another clinic.”

She’s so brave and independent, my girl. But she shouldn’t have to do anything herself. She’s the innocent victim in this. After John’s tirade, I can’t help but wonder if someone didn’t contact the Nevada Health Commissioner with their sordid little tale of woe. This has sabotage written all over it. Only another patient or their caretaker would have the information about the law violation. Finding it would require research and connections. I wonder who has that much time on their hands.

“See you next week, John,” I say, tugging Atlee behind me. I want to be alone before I burst into tears. She shouldn’t see me cry, and the sooner I can get home and hide in the bathroom, the sooner I can release the waterworks that are threatening to overflow right now. I blink a few times for good measure, grab my sunglasses from my oversized bag and slap them over my eyes. Luckily, the sun’s shining brightly today.

Atlee keeps my spirits up with senseless chatter all the way to our little house. A ball has wandered into the driveway, and she jumps out to grab it and shoot it high into the air. “This must be Rachel’s ball,” she says, excited at the prospect of returning it to her friend. “Can I run over and see if she lost it? Maybe she’ll want to play with me before dinner.”

I grab a lawn chair from the garage, not overly excited at the prospect of watching two little girls play outside while the thermometer still hovers around the ninety-degree mark. But her face changes my mind, and I sink down into the crisscrossed nylon fabric, grabbing a bottle of water from my bag.

“Sure,” I answer. “Go on over to Rachel’s and see if she’s home.”

As I watch Atlee ring the doorbell, and then Rachel bound outside to play ball with my daughter, my cell phone buzzes with an unknown Vegas number. Thinking it might have something to do with the therapy situation, I hit the red button, hoping it isn’t Ford. The last thing I need is him thinking he can help make everything that’s wrong right again and finding out about his daughter in the process. If he finds out before I can pave the way for the information, he afraid he’ll fight me for custody and take her away from me just because he can. I’m not stupid enough to think that one night of passionate lovemaking has guaranteed us a future. Besides, I woke up to an empty house, and the bastard didn’t even leave a note.

Big fucking surprise.

“Haylee, my dear, how are you today?” Dante’s voice floats over the line, and I stiffen, sinking down further into the already worn seat of my aluminum lawn chair. What could he possibly want with me after our date went so wrong?

“Hi, Dante.”

I purse my lips and try and concentrate on the two beautiful little girls playing catch with their bright pink ball complete with glitter accents – not the tightening of my jaw muscles as I try not to scream at the man I’ve come to loathe. But I forget that I’m a woman with a problem, and he’s powerful and rich. Who knows, if I play this to my advantage, I might be able to coerce him into helping me with the therapy clinic. Surely, he has connections at the Nevada Board of Health?

“I’m so sorry about the way our date ended the other night, Haylee. Those Caldwell boys have been thorns in my side for as long as I can remember. The day their father died, they changed. Well, I guess I don’t have to explain that to you. Didn’t Ford leave you to go find himself and bury his grief on the streets of San Francisco? Such a waste. They were such delightful young men before the tragedy.”

He completes his monologue with a fake clucking of his tongue as if he cares about Ford’s dad and his tragic death. I know that he doesn’t. I’m starting to wonder if he cares about anything but the Mona Lisa and himself.

I lick my dry lips, willing myself to stay neutral. “You’re right. It was a huge loss for the family.”

“Indeed.

The platitudes in his tone hit me right in the gut, taking my emotions by the throat. My cheeks ache underneath the effort of pursing my lips tight to avoid an unladylike curse to explode from my mouth.

“I know this whole thing is hard for you, Haylee. Having to work over there at the Armónico and see Ford’s face day in and day out. And sometimes…” He drops off, letting the implications fall between us. Some warped curiosity within me has to see this conversation through to the bitter end.

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes I feel like maybe he pushed you into modeling for the Strict Necessaire app because he’s using emotional blackmail. Is he being aggressive in his methods, holding your job at the café over your head? You know, I can offer you a far more lucrative position over here at the Mona Lisa.”

“Really?” The word flies out before I have the chance to think about the implications of opening the door to Dante even a sliver. But I’m going to have to start paying for Atlee’s therapy out of pocket, and I know that even my job modeling for Taren won’t even come close to paying the hefty price tag. Anything short of selling drugs or my body on the street might be worth considering.

“Really. I have to wonder if your life isn’t harder with Ford in it.” The question tugs at something deep in my soul. I don’t like this man or the way he operates in the world, but he sees me in a way that Ford never did and probably never could. It’s as if he knows what I’m thinking even before I get a chance to articulate it. “Does it keep you up at night with worry about what might happen if he finds out about your daughter?”

I hiss in a breath and double over. The phone slips from my shaking hand, and I can hear Dante’s tinny, faraway voice floating up to me from the astroturf. After a few seconds, I pick it up and place it against my ear again. If this man thinks he’s going to use my daughter against me, he’s got another thing coming.

“He’s not going to find out,” I whisper. “Because you’re not going to tell him.”

He chuckles, the sound low and forbidding. “He’s a smart man, Haylee. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out already, and it’s only a matter of time. I suggest you tell him before he finds out in a less than pleasing way. But you’re right, I don’t plan on telling him. But I do think I can help you with your other little problem. Something about the Nevada Board of Health and your daughter’s in-network clinic? You know, if you worked for me, you wouldn’t have to use NevadaCare, and you’d have multiple options for covered therapy.”

My heart’s racing so hard that the beat throbs in my temples. I can feel the flush on my cheeks, and it’s not from the heat. “How do you know about the clinic?”

“I’m a rich and powerful man, my dear. When I take a woman out in public, I need to know who she is. I need to know she’s not a gold digger. Especially, if she comes from meager means. You wouldn’t believe how many women have come to my people, claiming pregnancy, demanding a payoff for their silence. I did a background check, of course.”

But I changed my name legally since it made me feel closer to my mom. How did he get around that?

“I’m not a gold digger.”

“I never said that you were. In fact, I never even thought it. If you were a gold digger, you would have used Ford Caldwell’s daughter against him to extort money from him. He’s a billionaire, for Christ’s sake. I know you’re not after money. But there’s something else you’re after and that’s what I can help with if only you’ll let me.”

The man’s a master manipulator. While it’s happening, I don’t even realize it. It’s not until I stop and think that I understand he’s sandwiching compliments between criticisms, all in an attempt to get me to do his bidding. The unfortunate part is that I’m between a rock and a hard place, and he knows it.

“I don’t understand how you can help.”

He clucks his tongue again as if I’m addled, and it rankles. But I need to know what happens next, so I keep my verbal tongue lashing to myself for now.

“I can call off the Nevada Board of Health in exchange for you being a little friendlier when we’re together. A couple of dates here and there, nights on the town. It’s good for my image to be seen with local working-class women. It softens my rough edges, and I could use that right now. I’m trying to acquire another strip property, and it will go to a vote soon amongst the members of the gaming commission.”

I already know exactly how friendly he wants me to be. Even worse, he’s only doing this as an act of revenge and malice toward Ford and his family. I don’t want to be a pawn in his twisted game. But as my eyes rake over my daughter’s fragile body, her arms high in the air to catch the pink ball, her hair streaming out behind her, I realize that her health and happiness is far more important than my foolish pride. It won’t be the first time I swallow it for Atlee’s sake, and it won’t be the last. Besides, Ford has proven time and again that I can’t count on him. Last night simply serving as another example.

Atlee turns and waves at me, her eyes sparkling with joy and light. Rachel throws the ball in a wide arc, and my daughter catches it in her hands, giggling the whole time. If it weren’t for therapy, she wouldn’t be talking in complete sentences right now, let alone playing with a girl her own age. I hiss in a breath, swallow, and wipe the images of myself naked underneath Dante Giovanetti before I puke.

“I could do that.”