CHAPTER THREE

 

They went through an entire large pizza, loaded with cheese, sausage, and pepperoni. Beverly managed to get in a couple of pieces before Jaime literally took over, gobbling down chunks like a garbage disposal. Normally she would have drawn the line after maybe three pieces, tops. She had been concerned about his increasing diet of junk food and a cholesterol level that was already too high. But she had promised Jaime that he could have anything he wanted if he got a B on his math test. And he had gone one better, acing it with an A.

Beverly considered Jaime the best mistake she had ever made. She had never intended to get pregnant at age twenty. She was hardly more than a child bride herself. But her birth control had inexplicably failed her that night; just as Jaime’s father had failed her when he found out she was pregnant.

Diego Mendoza was as charming a Latino as they came, making Beverly fall for him with barely more than his shiny red Corvette and dreams of a bright future with her. But it all turned out to be false dreams when the going got tough. He wanted her to have an abortion. When she refused, he got scared of his responsibility and ran away. That was the last she ever saw of Diego.

Beverly had raised her son alone, no small task with law school and mostly low paying jobs to make ends meet along the way. But they had both survived, if not thrived, and Beverly could not imagine her life without Jaime. Though she knew the day would come when he would have his own family.

Until then, she would be there for him as his father had not been. And never would be.

Jaime wiped his mouth with a greasy napkin and slurped Root Beer through a straw. “Want some?” he asked, as if an afterthought.

“I think not,” Beverly responded, wrinkling her nose at the notion. She drank bottled water instead.

Jaime giggled. “Didn’t think so.” He sipped more soda.

Beverly stared at her son, without making it too apparent. He had her brown hair, though a shade darker, in a short crew cut that was all the rage at school. Jaime had his father’s dun colored eyes and thick brows. At twelve, he was already nearly as tall as she was and on the chubby side. Even his feet—size nine and a half—were big for a boy his age. Beverly considered that perhaps Jaime was just a normal oversized kid in today’s society where most things seemed to be excessive and large. In fact, his baggy jeans and oversized jerseys actually made him look leaner than he really was.

“You didn’t tell me how the case went.” Jaime looked across the dining room table, as if genuinely interested, surprising Beverly.

For the most part her son had shown little interest in her law work. He had been far more impressed with his best friend Paco’s mother, who Jaime thought was hot, and always around as a stay at home Mom to do things with.

Perhaps he’s beginning to appreciate what I do for a living, Beverly mused, even at the expense of being able to spend more time together. Maybe someday Jaime would even follow in her footsteps and become a lawyer.

“Well, we won,” she told him, still feeling victorious, as if having won the national championship. Especially when thinking of how she and Grant had celebrated the occasion.

“I’m glad.” Jaime gave her a proud, crooked smile.

Beverly smiled back warmly. “I’m happy to hear that.”

His smile seemed to evaporate. “How much did he help?”

She raised a brow. “You mean Grant?”

Jaime knew they had worked together on the trial and had gone out on a few dates, though Beverly was sure her son had no inkling of the extent of their relationship. She’d planned to tell him that she was seeing Grant, once she felt Jaime was ready to hear it. Maybe this was the time.

“Yeah, him.”

“Actually Grant helped quite a bit as co-counsel.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “In fact to be honest, I’m not sure we could have won without him.”

Jaime leaned back in his chair so his head rested against the wall behind him. “Oh...” He stared thoughtfully. “Are you sleeping with him, Mom?”

Beverly’s spine stiffened. “Jaime!” Her face colored. Just who have you been talking to about sex? Or do I even want to know? “That’s not the type of question a boy asks his mother,” she snapped.

Jaime shrugged. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Was that the same way Dad looked at you?”

Beverly bit her lip. “Grant and I are friends and colleagues,” she told him, deciding now wasn’t the right time to say more. “And your father was too busy looking at himself to notice me for the most part.”

“But he noticed you at least once, didn’t he?” Jaime shot her a cold, crude look.

Beverly could barely believe he was talking to her like this. Obviously her son was being told more about intimacy between a man and woman than she was comfortable with at this stage of his life.

“Yes,” she responded sharply. “And after that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me—or you—” She was always straight with Jaime where it concerned Diego. She saw no need to paint a pretty picture about his father for false consumption. There wasn’t anything pretty about abandonment, disappointment, or betrayal.

“We’re doing just fine the way we are,” pouted Jaime. “We don’t need anyone else in our lives.”

Meaning she didn’t need anyone else in her life except her twelve-year-old son who was growing up way too fast. There had not been anyone else in her life for a very long time. She had dedicated herself almost entirely to Jaime and her career for longer than she cared to remember. Add to that in the last two years, her father, with his declining health.

Wasn’t that enough? What more did her son want from her?

Beverly wondered if it had been a mistake to spoil Jaime for so many years with undivided affections and perhaps too little attention given to respecting one’s elders. Could he ever accept another person in her life, including his ailing grandfather?

Well he would have to, as she wasn’t willing to go back to the way things had been without romance and sex in her life. Grant was someone Jaime would have to contend with sooner or later if things remained on course as they were.

The phone rang, breaking the silent standoff.

“I think that’s for me,” Beverly uttered, though in no way feeling that was a certainty. Lately Jaime had been on the phone enough that she was sure he’d soon be demanding his own cell phone. She reached for the cordless on the table.

She could see from the caller I.D. that it was Grant, making Beverly feel even more guilty of neglecting her son. After taking a breath, she said, “Hello.”

“Flip the TV to channel 4.” Grant’s voice had a tense catch to it.

“What’s on?” Beverly watched Jaime curl his lip perceptively and leave the table, disappearing down the hall. A moment later she heard his bedroom door slam, giving her a shiver.

“You won’t believe it,” Grant said evasively. “A real shocker! Hurry up!”

“All right, just a minute.”

Her curiosity piqued, Beverly went into the hall, glancing once at Jaime’s closed door before moving towards the sunken living room. She’d purchased the single-level patio home nine years ago, right after passing the bar. It was in a beautiful old Eagles Landing neighborhood, separated somewhat from other homes by coastal redwood and lodgepole pine trees.

Grabbing the remote off the rustic log coffee table, Beverly pointed it at the flat screen plasma TV.

A female anchor, Nancy Novak, stared dramatically at the screen, while stating painfully, “In a recap of our breaking story, Superior Court Judge Sheldon Crawford was shot to death at his home tonight.” Beverly’s heart sank. “His wife, Maxine Crawford, was rushed to the hospital. No word yet on her condition. The assailant is apparently still on the loose and considered armed and dangerous—”