Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

another reason I wanted to see and speak with you."
    "Oh?"
    He kept his smile.
    "Since you are doing so fabulously now, I thought you might be willing to lend me some money," he said. "What?"
    "I need to get back on my feet. Five thousand dollars would do fine."
    "Five thousand dollars!"
    "I'm sure it's not a great deal to someone who owns one of the country's most famous seaside resorts."
    I stared in disbelief. This wasn't just another reason he wanted to see me and Christie; this was his main reason. Never did he look more dishonest and cheap to me.
    "Michael, even if I wanted to give you the money, which I don't, I could never do it without drawing attention. All my business affairs are run by a comptroller."
    "You must have some personal funds," he pursued.
    "Jimmy and I have personal funds," I corrected.
    "So?"
    "You expect Jimmy to approve such a thing?" Was there no end to his gall? I wondered.
    Michael shrugged.
    "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," he said.
    I pulled myself back into a stiff, firm position and glared at him.
    "Jimmy and I don't keep secrets from each other. Our marriage is built on trust."
    Michael stared at me, his eyes growing smaller, the impish glint turning into something harder, something sly and conniving.
    "Did you tell him you were coming here to meet me today?" he asked.
    "Of course not. He would be furious, and he wouldn't have permitted it."
    "So?" Michael said, lifting his arms and smiling again. "You've lied to him before."
    I shook my head.
    "You're despicable, Michael. I came down here out of pity. I thought it was horrible that you had never seen Christie, and now you're turning it into something sordid. I've got to go," I said. "Come on, Christie."
    I took some money out and threw it on the table for the bill. Then I stood up and helped Christie out of the booth. "Wait a minute, Dawn," he said.
    "No, Michael. There's no reason for me to stay here any longer."
    "I need that money, Dawn," he said, his eyes fixed on me. "I need this second chance, and you are in a position to help me now."
    "How can you ask me after what you did, no matter what your reasons were?" I said. I shook my head and started away.
    "Dawn!" he called, but I didn't turn back.
    "Momma, that man is calling," Christie said.
    "Just walk, honey," I told her. She turned around, and I dragged her along, fleeing from what seemed to me to be the evil side of the man I had once loved.

 
    18

JUST DESSERTS
     
    THE PHONE WAS RINGING IN MY OFFICE THE MOMENT I returned. Somehow I anticipated it would be Michael.
    "Dawn, you had no right to run out on me like that," he declared angrily.
    "I had no right to run out on you? You call that running out? How about the way you ran out on me?"
    "I thought I explained all that," he said.
    "Michael, there is nothing more to be said. We have to go on with our lives."
    "That's exactly what I'm trying to do," he insisted, "and why I need the money."
    "Michael, I can't—"
    "I have some rights, you know," he said quickly.
    "Rights?"
    "To Christie. She's my daughter, too," he asserted.
    "I was nice enough to play your little game, pretending to be someone else for now, but if I come around again . . ."
    I sat down slowly.
    "Michael, are you trying to blackmail me?"
    "I just need a miserable five thousand dollars for now," he contended.
    "For now?"
    "And you can continue to pretend Jimmy is Christie's father, if you like. I won't contest the adoption."
    "Contest the adoption? Do you think you would have any chance? A man who deserted a pregnant teenager?" I said, amazed he would even suggest it.
    "Maybe not, but the trial would certainly bring me much-needed notoriety. As my agent says, publicity is publicity. There is no such thing as bad publicity in my business. That's why performers don't really mind it when they find themselves written up in the tabloids.
    "Besides, a good lawyer could easily paint a different picture—the picture of a man who was going to do right by you. It was you who disappeared and then went and married the man who had lived as your brother. Can you imagine what the tabloids would do with that?" he asked in a laughing tone.
    "You're despicable," I said. "Even more despicable than I imagined."
    "All I want is a little money," he whined. "It's a drop in the bucket for you, but for me it's a chance to get back on my feet."
    "It's not a drop in the bucket," I snapped. "And it's not just the money. Jimmy would—"
    "Would be very angry to know you've been