Chapter Thirty-six
A few days later, a letter from his lawyer made King sit Reggie down while Gilda played with Jake outside. “Sweetheart, I have some bad news, but before you hear it, I think I have a solution. Are you ready?”
“No, but I’m glad Jake’s having fun so he’ll remember his home.”
“Stop playing psychic; you’re off the mark, but let’s go sit in the sun and watch him play.” King grabbed his cane and followed her out. She picked a piece of spearmint from the herb garden by the kitchen door, crushed it, and held it under his nose. Harmony’s influence, he thought. “Fresh. Clean,” he said. “Makes me want to chew some gum.”
Reggie smiled. “I love this place.”
That didn’t make him feel much better. They sat on a marble bench while Jake chased butterflies around the dolphin fountain.
Reggie laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m braced.”
King stroked her hair. “Your mother got wind of my lawyers’ inquiries and traced them back to me. She’s filed a countersuit for your custody.”
“I won’t go.”
“Not an issue, but . . . she didn’t apply for Jake’s custody. That’s good. It’ll work in our favor.”
“To her, Jake doesn’t exist. He wouldn’t fit her social stratosphere.”
“Into Malibu society, is she?”
“Big time. Last boy toy I remember was a soap star half her age.”
“Knowing that might help. It means she won’t want her world to know she’s a grandmother. I’m going to California to settle the future, for good.”
“Can’t she have you arrested there?”
“I won’t have contact with you while I’m there, so I won’t be breaking any laws. But I might try to convince her that I can have her arrested for stealing three years’ worth of child support.”
“Whatever you do,” Reggie said, “don’t give her the castle. I’m not kidding. This is our home.”
King guessed he wasn’t the only one who suspected that gold-digging Belinda would give up her daughter for money. He hadn’t quite realized how much Reggie loved the castle, nor that she already considered it home. Could his valiant girl stand another disappointment? And could he, in all honesty, be the one to disappoint her?
“Did she look for me, by the way?” Reggie asked. “Did Mom look for me?” she repeated.
“Yes, she hired a private investigator to find you, but he went out of business.”
“That’s lame. She’s usually better at covering her tracks than that.”
So much for his ploy to make her think her mother gave a rat’s ass. “She’s running scared, I think, so I’m off to play bad guy/bad guy.”
Tears spilled over Reggie’s big, dark eyes. “She doesn’t want my beautiful boy, Dad. I know she doesn’t want me, but how could she not want him?”
“Come here. Give your old dad a hug.”
“You? Old? Storm says you’re a prime stud.”
“Storm should keep her opinions to herself!”
Reggie laughed. “What fun would that be?”
Harmony and her sisters had become quite an influence on Reggie in the short time she’d been there. His daughter’s shirt of the day said, You Cease to Amuse Me, despite her full closet of new and retro clothes. He kissed her brow as Jake came over. “Grampa, take this with you to Caniforna.” The smiling urchin presented him with a mud pie.
“Baby Einstein, you never miss a trick.” King ruffled his hair and squeezed Reggie’s shoulder, as she wiped Jake’s face with the corner of her shirt. “I have to find Harmony,” King said, “to make sure she and her sisters can stay to keep you safe while I’m gone.”
Half an hour later, he found Harmony in the billiard room, but his request caught her off guard. “When are you going?” She circled the room waving a smoky . . . something. “It’s a smudge stick,” she said, answering his unspoken question.
“I’d like to leave tomorrow morning, if I can.”
“Of all the times.” Harmony sent her sisters a look. “The thing is, we’ve been rushing the protection spells so we could go back to Salem for the weekend. Our sister Vickie’s coming home from Scotland, and we have a welcome-home party planned.”
King released his breath. “I hate the thought of leaving Reggie and Jake’s futures hanging. Besides, in this case, a surprise strike is critical.”
“Can we take Reggie and Jake home with us?”
“You’d do that?”
“We love them. Of course we would.” Harmony looked at her sisters, and they enthusiastically agreed.
Relief and gratitude flooded him. “Reggie will love it. And if things go bad, Belinda won’t know where to find her.”
“Things could get ugly, huh?”
“Belinda doesn’t do nice. A mutual friend told me a few years back that she got her parents to sign their house over to her, then she moved them to senior housing and sold it.”
Storm shivered, as if she knew Belinda.
“Storm, do you sense something?” Harmony asked.
“The woman gives mean-spirited new meaning. She’s . . . small. Her world is narrow. She’s selfish and malicious. Like a dog with a bone, she doesn’t give it up unless she can bite someone for fun.”
“I know all that,” King said, “but hearing it makes me realize I should have fought for Reggie years ago.”
Harmony picked a piece of lint off his shirt. “You were a kid. Forgive yourself.” She slid her palm down his cheek and stepped away. “Your chicks will be safe with us. They’ll have a blast. So will we. Go to California and kick some bad Malibu ass.”
“If your sisters weren’t here, I’d kiss you.”
“Go ahead,” Storm said. “Kinky.”
King didn’t feel much like smiling, but he gave the rebel a wink. He also gave his crew an unexpected vacation, with pay. He might not look much like the boss leaning on his cane, but they treated him with new respect after that.
At dawn the next morning, Harmony walked him to his helicopter and kissed him good-bye, nothing compared to the send off she’d given him the night before, which included a gift from his own wine cellar that she’d utilized brilliantly. “Châteauneuf-du-Pape will never taste as fine,” he whispered against her lips.
She cupped his cheek. “Take care of you.” Her smile failed to hide her concern. “Call my cell and let us know what’s happening, okay? Reggie will be nervous, and so will I.”
“I’ll do that.”
Late that afternoon, in Malibu, sitting across from Belinda’s house, King didn’t need a detective to tell him that his ex hadn’t been able to afford a gardener or house painter for a while.
It took her a long time to answer her door, and when she did, she smiled, which scared him worse than the flaws in her once-flawless skin.
A bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat open on the bar behind her.
“You’re not gonna talk me out of getting Regina back,” she said.
“She’d rather be called Reggie.”
“You stole her.”
“You threw her out, and she came to me, but I’m here to fix that. I brought her back to you. Write me a check for the three years of child support you stole, and she’s yours.”
“How about you don’t have to pay for the next three years?”
King shook his head. “How about I don’t have to pay for the next six months?”
“Even better,” Belinda said.
“You don’t know how old your daughter is. Child support ends when she turns eighteen in six months.”
The look on Belinda’s face told him she hadn’t counted on that. She must have promised her lawyer a cut of the money tree she planned to shake, because the partied-out playgirl before him couldn’t afford a custody battle.
“I can’t afford—”
“To maintain your lifestyle. I can tell. Suppose I give you two choices,” King said. “I bring Reggie and her son here from the hotel, and the world knows you’re a grandmother, or you sign custody over to me. I’ve got the papers right here.”
Belinda smiled her evil/nice cat smile, the kind the unsuspecting world would think was sweet. He knew. He’d fallen for it once. “Suppose I give you . . . one choice,” she said. “A few days in jail should help you come up with a better offer.”
Her doorbell rang. “Get a life,” she said before she let the cops in.
They arrested him on the spot . . . for kidnapping.