“Mom, you mean like in Washington, D.C.?” Ryan asked, surprised. “That’s baller, G.”
“Yes, exactly.” Pam chuckled. “It’s a federal appointment, and it has to go through the Senate. It’s a long process, like years, and it’s very political, but in the end, I’ll be there forever.” She leaned over the counter to Ryan. “But listen, honey, you can’t tell anyone. It’s confidential. Don’t say anything to any of your friends, the team, or your teachers.”
Jake cringed at the irony. Ryan was keeping a wonderful secret to protect his mother and an awful secret to protect his father.
Pam continued, “Monday or Tuesday, they’ll press-release that Judge Medova is stepping down, but they won’t announce that I’m on deck until the preliminaries are wrapped up. The FBI has to come interview me and you guys, too. They do an in-depth background check of the family.”
Jake felt his heart stop. He had no idea what that would involve, but he was instantly worried about Ryan and he could see the blood draining from his son’s face.
“Mom, the FBI? Why do they have to interview me?”
Pam chuckled again. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s just procedure. You’ll do fine.”
Ryan’s lips parted. “But why do they have to investigate us? And what do they do, like, exactly?”
“Honey, don’t sweat it. It’s more for Dad and me. The FBI wants to find out if we do anything illegal, like hire illegal aliens or pay the cleaning lady under the table. But we don’t do that, and we never would.”
“But what do they do?”
“They talk to you, is all.” Pam waved him off, airily. “They do it for security reasons, and to avoid any surprises that might come up during the confirmation process, embarrassing everyone and putting a kibosh on my nomination.”
Jake put on his best reassuring smile. “Ryan, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Pam bubbled over, beaming. “Of course there isn’t, honey. I say we celebrate! Your father and I are having champagne, and you can have a ginger ale.”
“Great idea.” Jake winked at Ryan, trying vainly to lighten his mood. “I’ll get the champagne.”
“I’ll get the ginger ale.” Pam crossed to the refrigerator, glancing back at Ryan. “Don’t be such a nervous Nellie. We’ll pass with flying colors. After all, it’s not like we have anything to hide.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jake locked the front door, turned off the entrance-hall light, and walked to the staircase in darkness, heading up to bed. It was after midnight, and Pam had already gone upstairs, after Ryan and Moose. He and Pam had polished off a bottle of champagne, but it had only depressed his mood further. He started to climb the stairs, almost tripped over her high heels, then grabbed them on the fly and went up, leaning heavily on the banister.
He reached the second floor and bypassed the closed door to Ryan’s bedroom. His son needed sleep, and so did he. He made his way to his bedroom, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him. The room was empty, and he knew Pam was in the bathroom by the faint buzzing of her electric toothbrush. He brought her shoes to her closet, where he dropped them on the rug, catching a glimpse of her at her sink.
Pam’s back was to him, and she was bent over, rinsing her mouth, in a lacy black bra and tan bikini panties. His eyes traveled her shapely body, from the exposed nape of her neck to the cleft of her back, taking in the dimples above the lacy edge of her panties and coming to rest on her ass, which was perfect. In any other mood, Jake would have been turned on, but tonight he felt like the lowest of the low. Only hours ago, he’d met with a criminal lawyer and made a corrupt bargain with their son.
What are the odds that you’d get away with it?
Pam dried her face, spotting him in the mirror when she replaced the towel. “Caught you looking, honey.”
“Oops.” Jake faked a smile. He felt like an intruder in his own bedroom, a pervert peeking at his own wife. He had become a stranger to himself.
“Like what you see?”
“You’re amazing,” Jake answered, meaning it. She was too good for him. He was unworthy.
“Hold that thought.” Pam walked to him, raising her arms and reaching up for him. She had that cool look in her eye, and he knew she wanted to make love. He couldn’t refuse her, he never had, and he leaned down and embraced her, on Husband Autopilot. She parted her lips to kiss him, covering his mouth, tasting sexy and familiar, like champagne and Colgate. Her body was soft and warm in his arms, and he found himself kissing her deeply. He felt a vague stirring in his pants and wanted oblivion. He didn’t want to think about Ryan, Mo Hubbard, or Kathleen, anymore. He didn’t want to think at all.
He slipped his free hand into the back of her panties, cupped her cheek, and lifted her onto him, pressing himself between her legs. She kissed him back with a soft, throaty moan and wrapped her thighs around his waist, pushing herself against his zipper, holding on to his T-shirt in back as he carried her to the sitting area by the fireplace. He stopped kissing her only to lower her onto the chair, where she sat, eyes closed, arching her back, her breasts straining against the dark lace of her bra cup. Her arms fell to her sides, her legs parted, and he knelt between them to yank his T-shirt off over his head.
Do you guys ever even use these chairs?
Ryan’s voice popped into his consciousness, unwanted and unbidden, and Jake froze. He didn’t even know why he’d taken Pam here, and not the bed. They’d never made love here.
You protected me, now I’m going to protect you. Guess I’m my father’s son, huh?
Pam’s eyes fluttered open after a moment, in muzzy confusion. She whispered, “Jake?”
No, he thought, deflating. He wasn’t Jake. He didn’t know who he was anymore. He was the man who left a young girl dead by the side of the road. He was the man who ruined his own family. He was the man who destroyed their wonderful son.
“You okay, honey?”
“No, sorry, I’m just tired.” Jake sighed. “It’s the booze. It must be.”
“So … you don’t want to?” Pam frowned, blinking.
“Let’s just call it a day,” Jake answered, leaning down to kiss her, one last time.
Chapter Sixteen
Jake opened his eyes, vaguely aware that Pam was trying to wake him up. He squinted against sunlight pouring into the bedroom, because they had forgotten to pull down the blackout shades last night. His wife’s face came into focus, and Jake could see that she was back to business, already made up and ponytailed, in her contacts, maroon Chasers Nation sweatshirt, and jeans. She smelled like face wash and things-to-do lists.
“Honey, wake up.” Pam stroked his arm. “The game’s at one o’clock. You’re coming, right?”
“Yes, right.” Jake’s head was pounding, and he had a major hangover. He’d been hoping he could keep reality at bay, but it came rushing back to him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with alcohol. “Is Ryan up?”
“Of course. He’s already out shooting.”
“Is he sick or okay?” Jake heard the rhythmic bouncing of the ball outside on the driveway, the sound of rubber hitting cold asphalt, echoing in the quiet Sunday morning.
“He seems better. Get up and shower, please. I thought it would be nice if we all had pancakes together.”
“Pancakes? Ugh.” Jake felt his stomach turn over. “How can you eat?”
“I’m fine, and Ryan likes pancakes on game day. Can you be down in half an hour? We have to leave by ten o’clock.”
Jake glanced at the clock, which read 8:07. “Why ten, if the game isn’t until one?”
“The team has to be there early, and I have carpool, so we’re picking up Jerome and Baird, so that adds forty-five minutes. Plus it’s an away game, at North Mayfield, and that will take another forty-five minutes extra…”