CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I guess things are tough all over,” Sam says.
I look up at him, sensing a double meaning in his words. “How so?”
His next beer appears, and he waits until the waitress is gone before he answers. “My daughter . . . She’s not actually mine.”
“What?” I’m not sure I understand, but I definitely want to. I sit up straighter and lean in to hear him better.
“Biologically speaking, she’s not my daughter. But she is my daughter in my heart, you know?” He touches his fist to his chest a couple times and waits for me to respond.
“I think I get it,” I say. “You must love her a lot. You tattooed her name on your body.”
He looks at his arm that’s covered in ink. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot of other ones that don’t mean a whole lot compared to that one.”
“It’s all by itself there over your heart.”
“Yes. She means everything to me.”
“And she’s back in LA?”
“Yeah.”
“With her mother?”
He suddenly looks decidedly uncomfortable. “Yes and no.”
I am so ready to question him further, but our pizza arrives, steaming-hot and smelling delicious. Although suspicious of the anchovies on top, I’m ready to dive in.
“Thanks,” he says to the waitress, who hands us silverware and plates in a pile.
Sam serves me first and then himself. He takes two slices and turns them into a big pizza sandwich. We lapse into companionable silence as we try the food. The anchovies aren’t bad. They add a little extra saltiness to the pizza, which helps the beer go down easier. I order a second drink and Sam orders a third.
“You want to ask me about Sadie’s mother, don’t you?”
I nod, using a napkin to wipe sauce off my lips before I answer. “Yes, but I don’t want to be too nosy.”
“That’s all right. You shared your secret with me; I might as well share mine with you.”
“Cool.” I give him a thumbs-up and try to wink, but both of my eyes close; I’ve never been good at winking.
He laughs and shakes his head silently. He swallows his next bite of pizza before he continues the conversation. “I met Sadie’s mom, Madison, a few years back, when we were both jamming with this group of people who were messing around, killing time in this old warehouse. She sings. She’s pretty good, too, when she’s not wasted.”
“Oh.” This sounds like the beginning of a very sad story. I munch on my pizza as I wait for the rest.
“We were never more than friends. She was always with different guys; she likes to sleep around. And she’s had a bad drug problem for a long time.”
I swallow with an exaggerated gulp when my throat suddenly goes dry. I wasn’t expecting this. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, well, some people are more prone to that stuff, I guess. She’s very sensitive . . . easily influenced by the different shitheads she let into her life. I was always trying to help her out, but it didn’t seem to matter what I did. She always fell back into the same trap, ending up with a guy who didn’t treat her right, who encouraged her to party too much.”
I wipe my mouth again, feeling sad for Madison and Sam. “Some people can’t be helped. They’re their own worst enemies. We occasionally see people like that out on the farm.”
“Yeah. She’s a sad case. I mean, I love her. She’s a good girl inside, but she’s just really messed up. She had a very bad childhood. She was abused by her father, and her mother knew about it but didn’t do anything to stop it, so Madison doesn’t really feel like she can trust anyone.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” My heart hurts for the poor girl.
“Anyway, she’s seriously hooked on H and has been for a while.”
“H? What’s that?”
“Heroin.”
“Oh.” I get a chill down my spine. I don’t know a lot about drugs, but I’ve heard that one is especially bad.
“Her friends and I have done everything we can to help her out, but it’s to the point that I don’t think there’s anything we can do anymore. She doesn’t want help and she’s avoiding us, hiding where we can’t find her.”
“Oh, no. What about Sadie?” Tears fill my eyes—for Sam, for Madison, and most of all for Sadie. No little girl should have to live without her mom. I’m so lucky; I have three. They might not be perfect, but they love me more than anything in the world. They proved that when they walked away from Red Hot twenty-six years ago, giving up on the life they loved so much for the good of us kids. I wish they were here in this pizza place with me right now so I could hug the crap out of them.
“When Madison got pregnant, she had no idea who the father was, but the options were not good. It was either one of the junkies she was hanging out with or her dealer, and I didn’t want any of those guys having anything to do with her. At least not more than they already did. I couldn’t keep them away from her, but I was not going to let them get near Sadie.”
“So what did you do?”
“I told her I wanted to put my name on the birth certificate. She agreed, and I took over dad duty.”
“Wow.” I put my pizza down. This conversation is way more interesting than the anchovies. “That’s really huge.”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize how huge it was at the time, actually.” He has a slight smile now. “She’s a handful.”
“Do you have a picture of her?” I can totally see him being a dad to a tiny girl, and it makes my heart melt into a puddle of goo. I’ll bet she pulls on his beard, which makes me love it even more. I have to work hard to control my emotions so I don’t start blubbering like a baby all over this pizza. Hot men with babies do something weird to my insides.
He leans forward to reach into his back pocket, pulling out a leather wallet. He opens it up and takes out a photo, sliding it over to me. “This is from about six months ago.”
Sadie has curly blond hair and sparkly blue eyes. I can tell she’s totally mischievous by her sassy expression. The picture was taken in a park; there are swings in the background. “She is absolutely beautiful.”
“Yeah. So is her mom.”
I hand the picture back to him and smile. “And you’re trying to tell me that you never had a relationship with her mother?” I find that very hard to believe. Madison must be gorgeous.
He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not my type.”
I pick up my pizza and take a bite. I really want to know what his type is, but it doesn’t seem like the right thing to ask at this particular moment.
“I prefer women who are a little more chill than Madison is.”
I chew my pizza slowly and nod, hoping he’ll keep going if I encourage him silently.
“She’s always out partying. The whole idea of having a kid freaked her out, but she didn’t want to have an abortion either. The nine months she carried Sadie were the only clean months she ever had . . . as long as I’ve known her, anyway.”
“If she’s always out partying, who’s taking care of Sadie?”
“Mostly me. Sometimes friends, if I can’t because I’m working or whatever.”
Do I dare ask my next question? I take a sip of courage—otherwise known as beer—and let it fly. “You’ve been getting some phone calls since you’ve been here. You sound stressed when you answer them. Is it about Madison or Sadie?”
His expression turns dark, and he drops his pizza crust on his plate, taking another gulp of his beer before he answers with a hoarse voice. “Madison. She’s in trouble again.”
“Is Sadie okay?”
“Yeah. I have a friend looking out for her. She’s pretty much making sure Madison doesn’t come around, keeping Sadie on her routine so she doesn’t know anything weird is going on. Sadie is used to her mother going AWOL, so it doesn’t bug her too much, but my friend has been a constant in her life since day one, so it’s cool. Sadie’s oblivious to all of it.”
“Oh. That’s terrible.” My heart sinks for Sam and his daughter. “You have to keep them apart?”
“It’s never good when Madison gets high. Sometimes she starts feeling really regretful, and she wants to come and be with Sadie, but she’s so messed up she doesn’t realize that she’s scaring her. And it’s not safe to let Madison come around when she’s using because she sometimes gets violent. She never remembers any of it either. It’s just . . . a huge, fucking mess.”
I reach out and take his hand, pulling it toward me so I can stroke the top of it. “It sounds like you’re doing everything you can for Sadie and Madison. You’re a good friend and a great dad, Sam.”
He looks down at me petting his hand. After a few seconds I become a little self-conscious and pull back, lacing my fingers in my lap. I’m treating him like a fussy hen.
“That’s why I’m here,” he says.
I’m confused. “You think being away from Sadie right now is better for her?”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s why I’m here earning some money. I do all right back in LA, but the sick money they were offering me here was too good to say no to.” He pauses. “They didn’t offer me ten million bucks, but it was more than I normally make in a year back there. And I figured if I could get the work started sooner, maybe I could finish sooner and get back before . . .” He pauses and looks up at the ceiling before he finishes. “Before anything seriously bad happens with Madison that I need to deal with. I couldn’t risk waiting and then not being able to come at all.”
“Oh.” Now I’m feeling just a little bit of regret over not taking that money Lister offered. It could make such a difference in the lives of people like Sam and Sadie. I know it’s crazy to think that; I don’t even know them. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to help them.
“Anyway, that’s my sad, sorry tale. I didn’t ask you to keep it a secret before, but if you’d do that for me, I’d really appreciate it. I haven’t told Ty any of this, but I need to. And I’d rather he hear it from me than anyone else.” He glances at me as he busies himself with preparing another pizza sandwich. I get the distinct impression he’s uncomfortable now. I think he revealed more than he planned to.
“Your secrets are safe with me.” I say this as cheerily as possible as I pick up my pizza again, hoping to dispel his worries. “This food is awesome. I’m not into the hot dogs, but the pizza is all right with me.”
He holds his slices up at me, and I hold mine up at him, and we touch pizza corners together. “Cheers,” he says. “Here’s to keeping secrets.”
“Cheers,” I say, knowing that it’s going to burn me up inside to not share this stuff with Amber. This is exactly the kind of thing she wanted me to find out for her, but there’s no way I can tell her what I just learned without betraying Sam’s confidence, and I’m not going to do that. When Sam decides that his brother needs to know these things, that’s his place to do that, not mine. I wish I could talk to him more about him and Ty, but what he’s said so far is so heavy, I hate to push him further. This vibe we have between us feels good but tenuous. I don’t want to ruin it. Maybe the subject will come up later, and I’ll be more comfortable with asking questions about his brother and their relationship.
We enjoy our pizza for a few more minutes without saying anything. The waitress comes over and leaves the check, and Sam starts digging into his back pocket.
“Let’s split it,” I say. Now that I know he’s raising a child who’s not even his own, there’s no way I can let him treat me to dinner.
“Maybe next time,” he says. “This one is mine.”
I take his comment to mean that we’re going to share another meal out. I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You got anywhere else you need to go before we head back to the apartment?”
“No. I’m finally getting tired, so I think it’s good that we go back now.”
“Great. We can plan for our bet tomorrow on the way.”
I tilt my head, looking as innocent as possible. “What bet?”
He smiles and winks at me. “Nice try. You’re going down, hippie chick. Might as well wrap your brain around it now.”
I gather up my dirty utensils and stack them on the plate, pushing the pile to the edge of the table. “There’s only one person going down at this table, and it ain’t me; it’s you . . . the weirdo with the beardo.”
He bursts out laughing, as my face flames red. I seriously need more practice at this conversation thing.