CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"Brian," Melanie said, her tone as unwelcoming as her expression. She was dressed in jeans and a faded University of Pittsburgh sweatshirt, holding the door open with one hand and balancing a ginger-haired toddler on her right hip with the other. "I suppose you'd better come in."

I smiled at her. "Why, thank you Melanie. Hello, Abraham." I'd seen the child before, of course, most often with Lindsay: he had pale eyes and freckles and was usually grizzling about something, and I'd always found him remarkably unattractive even by normal baby standards. But then I supposed that was the risk you ran when you took a headlong plunge into the random gene pool, and I wondered what kind of hell the poor kid was destined to go through with looks like that and a name like Abraham to boot. I smiled at him in what I hoped was a winning manner, but he looked back as accusingly as if he could read my thoughts: his lip began to quiver, his eyes began to fill, and he buried his head in Melanie's shoulder with a wail.

Mel looked down at him with a softened expression, and pressed a gentle kiss to his head. "I'm afraid he's teething, so he's a little grumpy, aren't you, Abe?" She ushered me into the tiny apartment she was renting, and I looked round at a room strewn with legal books and baby paraphernalia. Melanie had never been much of a housewife. There was a baby pen in one corner and she deposited Abe in it, pressing a teething ring into his chubby fist which he immediately began to gnaw at with single-minded ferocity. I knew Linds was still breast-feeding – she'd virtually emptied the Diner one lunchtime, much to Debbie's amusement – and winced at the idea of those gnashing gums coming anywhere near a nipple of mine.

"I forgot you had joint custody," I said, clearing a space amongst the baby clothes on the couch and sitting down.

Mel snorted. "If you can call every other weekend joint custody." She began to fold the clothing I'd moved, making a pile on the coffee table instead. "Unlike Lindsay, I have to work full-time and I don't have the luxury of a stay-at-home husband to help out. Or rich parents who are only too delighted to contribute now that their little girl has finally come to her senses, kicked that obnoxious Lesbian bitch into touch, and found herself a man to marry. They didn't even complain about him being French!"

I pressed my lips together so she wouldn't see me smirking. "I take it she still hasn't confessed there's more to Guy than meets the eye?"

"Of course not!" Mel snapped, picking up the heap of clothes and relocating them to the dining table. "She's such a fucking cowardly hypocrite! She drags him over to their place every week so he can smooch her mother and smarm all over her father. They think the sun shines out of his scrawny Gallic ass!"

I so hoped I was there when they found out the truth, just to enjoy the expression on the Petersons' faces when they realised Linds had not only swapped a lesbian for a queer but that their new son-in-law had only married her in order to buck deportation. It couldn't happen to a more deserving couple.

"She thought I was just going to give Abe up without a fight, even though I'm his legal parent every bit as much as she is," Mel continued, throwing herself into the armchair opposite. "She forgot that I was the one who really wanted a child in the first place. No fucking way was I going to abandon Abe to be raised by those two idiots!"

"Still, it can't be easy," I said, trying to be sympathetic.

"Like you'd know!" she shot at me angrily. "It takes commitment to be a parent, and selflessness, and dedication! Hardly your most conspicuous qualities, except for when it comes to getting your dick serviced!"

"I never denied it," I replied equably. "Lindsay was the one set on me being a father, remember? Don't blame me if she was delusional enough to believe it would have changed anything."

"It might have. At least she would finally have gotten what she wanted, so perhaps she might have been able to focus on me for more than five minutes!"

"From what I heard, you were the one messing around," I reminded her.

"Once. That's all, fucking once. And that was only because we hadn't had sex in like, forever. She was always too tired, or she had a headache, or she had the house full of other new mommies all comparing notes on fucking diaper rash!"

I shrugged. "What else did you expect? You have kids, that's part of the deal. Or did you think Lesbians did it differently?"

Her eyes blazed at me. "Fuck you, Kinney! I know I screwed up! I just didn't think she'd let go so easily, without even trying to fight for us! I thought she'd at least give me another chance, for Abe's sake if nothing else. I bet she would have, if you'd been his father! Then he might have meant enough for her to want him to grow up in a stable family, instead of the farce he's living in right now!"

Abe, obviously alarmed by the rising tone of her voice, clambered to his feet and began to wail again. Mel hurried over to retrieve him and I watched as she rocked him, making soothing noises as she did so. "It's okay, Sweetie. Mommy's not angry." She threw me a hard glance over her shoulder. "I think you'd better go, Brian."

I got up and went to stand next to her. "Mel, I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Ha! Name one occasion that you and I have managed to be in the same room for five fucking minutes without fighting!"

I held my hands up, palms outwards. "Granted, we don't have a good track record. But that was only because of Lindsay."

"How do you figure that?"

"Come on, Mel, you loathed me from the moment you met me and there was no way you wanted me to father Lindsay's child. You wanna tell me why?"

"Because you're an arrogant, narcissistic asshole with the morals of an alley cat?"

I stuck my tongue in my cheek. "Apart from that. You knew Lindsay always had a secret dream about the two of us ending up together, and getting me to father her child was just another part of her little fantasy. You didn't want me to have any place in your Muncher Paradise, and you knew very well that's exactly what would have happened if Lindsay had got her way."

"She only wanted you as the donor," Mel objected, sticking out her jaw stubbornly. "She never expected you to have anything to do with rearing the child."

I rolled my eyes. "If you believe that, then you're the one who's being delusional. It would have been, Oh, Brian, the baby needs new shoes. Oh, Brian, we need a babysitter. Oh, Brian, we want him to take piano lessons but they're sooo expensive! I'd have never heard the fucking end of it and neither would you, and it would have driven you bugshit. The two of you stood a far better chance of staying together without seeing my face every time you looked at your kid."

Mel shook her head. "Don't give me that altruistic bullshit. If you cared about Linds and me being together you'd have stopped her marrying that slimy Frog!"

"And how would I have done that, other than grassing her up to Immigration? She's never really forgiven me for turning her down in the first place so she sure as hell wouldn't take my advice anymore … if she ever did. But you're right. I wouldn't have interfered even if I could, any more than I did when the two of you tied the knot. You were adults: you had the same right as any breeder to make yourselves miserable. Now you have to live with the consequences, and work out your own shit."

Her eyes hardened and I half expected her to kick my flat ass straight out the door. But Melanie was nothing if not honest, and after a moment she chuckled. "Kinney, the one thing I always begrudgingly admire about you is the way you speak your mind, no matter how fucked up that mind might be."

I grinned back at her. "Well, if you want the truth, try this: I refused Lindsay because I wouldn't be responsible for cursing any innocent kid with the genes of my fucked up family. So remember the spawn of Satan my sister produced, and think yourself lucky I have at least that much scruple."

Mel snorted. "Yeah, I'd have been checking for the 666 birthmark, that's for sure." She looked down fondly at the small ginger head lying against her shoulder. "Anyway, how could I ever wish Abe had a different father? He's absolutely perfect just the way he is."

I could tell that she meant it, from the tone of her voice as much as her expression. Whatever this tiny scrap of humanity grew up to be, whatever his frailties, Melanie would always be right there behind him: protecting, encouraging, and loving, just the way Debbie was for Michael. Mother love, I guessed they called it.

Not something I had any personal experience of, really.

I told her the whole story, omitting nothing but the names: somehow I felt that if I kept it anonymous then I hadn't completely betrayed Justin's confidence. Mel sat across from me, Abe asleep in her lap, occasionally asking for clarification of some point, and her expression changed from puzzled to scandalized, from anger to gravity as the tale went on. Eventually she just stared at me.

"Christ, Brian. Please tell me you're shitting me." Then she shook her head. "No, of course you're not. Why would you?" Carefully she rose to her feet, still cradling the sleeping child, and walked away towards a door on the far side of the room, through which she disappeared. A few minutes later she returned alone. "I've put him to bed," she said. "Now for God's sake give me a cigarette."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Linds made me quit when Abe was born," Mel explained. "But right now I could do with one."

I pulled out the carton and offered it to her before taking one myself. I lit them both and watched as she drew the smoke deep into her lungs, closing her eyes in ecstasy. "Oh, that is so good," she moaned.

"So what do you think?" I asked as she re-seated herself, her legs tucked underneath her.

"That there are some people on this planet who should never be allowed to have children?"

I smirked at her. "I think we've already agreed on that point. But in this case? What's the legal situation?"

Mel reached over to the bureau beside her chair and dug out a glass ashtray from a drawer, placing it on the coffee table between us before answering. "As far as the father's concerned, he's in deep shit if the IRS find out. The fact that he's paid the money he owes doesn't mean anything: if he was cooking his company's books he's guilty of embezzlement and that's all there is to it. If the IRS start digging they'll find out pretty damn quick that his income doesn't come close to covering his expenditure, so they'll run a full audit of his accounts to explain where the extra money's come from … and they'll find out, no doubt about it. A clever accountant might be able to make the figures look right, but there's never really any way he can completely cover his tracks. And yes, the chances are he'd go to jail, especially considering the way he bailed himself out. His best bet would be to come clean, admit he'd fucked up, and hope they'll be lenient."

I reached forward to tap ash into the ashtray. "Not a chance of that, I'm afraid. What about his wife's position?"

Melanie snorted. "A devoted wife and mother, bringing up a handicapped child, betrayed by her husband with his trollop of a secretary? There isn't a judge in the land who wouldn't find in her favour and under normal circumstances she could take the bastard for every cent he has."

I raised an eyebrow. "Meaning these aren't normal."

"Unfortunately, no." She sighed. "Brian, I'm only working on what you've told me. Without knowing the facts from all parties, I can't give you any absolutes. But if this man were to go to jail and his company folded or was sold, then any assets would firstly be used for paying creditors, from the Government down. If, as you say, the house is heavily mortgaged and is in his name, as seems likely, then it may be forfeit too. There might not be much left for the wife – especially if she has large medical insurance premiums to pay for the child."

Fuck. It sounded as if Justin hadn't been overdramatizing his family's situation. I chewed my thumbnail absently.

"As to your 'friend'" – she gave me a quick, knowing look from her sharp eyes – "you say he's eighteen?"

"Yeah."

"Unfortunate. If he were a year younger he'd still be legally a minor, but as it stands the law says he's capable of making his own decisions."

"But he's being fucking blackmailed!" I snapped.

Mel threw her hands up. "Of course he is! He's being manipulated emotionally and abused physically, and I have no doubt he could file a suit against both his father and his manager. But Brian, blackmail cases – like rapes – are often the hardest to prosecute because the victims very often refuse to give evidence. All the time your friend is insisting he's acting of his own free will, I don't see there's much anyone can do legally to help him."

"Jesus Christ!" I leaped to my feet and began pacing. "So that's the best advice you can come up with? Just walk away and forget about it? What if Sa… what if his manager ends up fucking killing him, and I let it happen?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Mel replied in her patient voice. "My advice to you would be to persuade him that he can't mend this, that sooner or later his father is

going to get caught, and that his best option is to go to the police before his situation gets any worse."

"I've tried that. He's a stubborn little shit." I didn't sound anywhere near as accusing as I'd wanted.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" I turned towards her: she was watching me with a half smile.

"Why are you concerned? Who is this kid to you?"

"I told you. Someone I met through Vangard. He told me his story … and it just didn't seem right, that's all. I wanted to find out if there was anything I could do to help."

"Please." She stubbed out her cigarette and leaned forward, eyes on my face. "You don't get involved with anybody's problems, except Michael's. So why would you be getting so worked up about some teenager you've only just met?"

I glared at her. "I am not worked up."

Mel threw back her head and laughed. "Not much, you're not! I've got to admit, I'd like to meet the young man who's capable of tying the Great God Kinney's thong in a knot!"

"Fuck you." I crossed to the coffee table, ditched my butt and headed for the door, furious at her. Fucking dykes! I should have known better than to come to her for help, should have known that all she'd do was to turn the situation into a joke at my expense.

"Brian, wait." I felt her hand on my arm and paused, turning back towards her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. You just … kind of took me by surprise, I guess. I haven't met this Brian Kinney … I'm only used to the I-don't-care-so-fuck-'em-all version."

She looked genuinely contrite, but I was still pissed. "It's okay," I said gruffly, pulling my arm out of her grasp. "Thanks for your time."

"Hey, I meant what I said, asshole," Mel insisted. "And to prove it, if you do manage to persuade your friend to come to his senses and press charges, then I'll be happy to represent him. Pro Bono, of course." She stuck her hand out.

I looked down at her small, determined figure and found my anger draining away. Whatever image she had of me was of my own making, and I had no right to resent her for seeing nothing else. I'd certainly never given her any reason to believe I might be capable of actually giving a damn … I wasn't so sure I believed it myself. And I had no doubt at all that she'd fight Justin's corner better than anyone else I knew. In the end, that was the only thing that mattered.

"I'll hold you to it," I told her gravely, shaking her hand.

TBC