You Dropped a Blonde on Me (43 page)

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Authors: Dakota Cassidy

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction

BOOK: You Dropped a Blonde on Me
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Three weeks later, fury welled up in Max like a pot of boiling water. That fucking puke. She threw the divorce papers Finley had sent on her mother’s table. Rage rose in her with a swell, leaving bile in her throat.
Finley was really going to do it. So why was she so stunned? Because somewhere deep inside her, she’d prayed, hoped Finley wasn’t a total fuck. Yet here it was in black and white.
If she signed these papers, they’d be divorced and he’d get away with a measly sum of child support, but worse . . . If she agreed to his terms, which was what everyone did when it came to dealing with Finley, he wouldn’t have to pay a dime for Connor’s college education. Everything he owned would still be in a nice, neat little bundle, all his money still in piles and piles from here to Connecticut intact.
With a fling of her wrist, Max hurled her purse across the room, watching with satisfaction as the contents scattered on the floor. It was only a small representation of her rage though. What she really wanted to do was go all gangsta on Finley and make him scream in agony, bleed nickels and dimes until she had the money she needed for Connor.
“Hey!” her mother shouted. “I taught you better than that. No purse throwing in the house, young lady.”
Pacing, she seethed, ignoring her mother.
“Whassamatter, Maxie? Don’t tell me you and Campbell had a fight already? Everything was going so well. I like him. I say we keep him—so don’t screw it up by—”
“It’s not Campbell,” she yelped, struggling for air, dizzy from the effort. She tightened the sweater she was wearing to keep from putting her fist through a wall.
Her mother’s sharp eyes fell on the envelope from Finley. “Ah. The Talleywhacker. I should’ve known. So what does he want now? Your ovaries cryogenically frozen?”
“No,” Max gasped from holding her breath.
Mona yanked the paper off the table and scanned it before her eyes narrowed. “The hell we’ll let him do this, Maxie!”
She planted a hard fist on the counter out of helpless frustration. Like she could stop him. Like she had the kind of money it would take to find someone who could. Her rage evaporated and defeat settled with a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Goddamn him for always rising to the top like smarmy cream.
Her mother poked her arm. “Hey. You’re not going to let him do this to Connor, are you?”
Tight-lipped, Max responded, fighting to keep her anger on the person who deserved it instead of taking it out on her mother. “And how would you like me to stop him? I have no money left, Mom. I’m just now beginning to be able to meet the payments on my credit card for what I’ve spent so far on this divorce. I can’t afford to pay that ass more money only to lose. Besides that, he said he’d need a bigger retainer,” she fumed. The bloodsucking leech.
Mona rolled her eyes. “So we’ll get him one. Better yet, we’ll get a real lawyer. I’ve said this a hundred times now, Maxie.”
Her hands went up in the air in a gesture of defeat. “How many more times can I give you the same answer, Mom? Jesus, why won’t you listen? Your retirement fund can’t take any more hits than it already has. Connor and I have been depleting it for going on twelve months. If I get a better lawyer and he at least gets Connor what he’s due, it won’t pay you back, Mom.”
Her chin lifted with typical defiance. “I don’t care. Besides, when you win, Connor’ll be able to go to that fancy school of his dreams and he’ll earn back the money by getting a good job and supporting his old grandmother with a college degree.”
Max shook her clenched fists, the blood rushing to her head. “I refuse to risk that. Not. Gonna. Happen. End of!”
“You know what you’re doing here, Maxie?”
Her head fell to her hands, weary and throbbing. “
What
am I doing here, Mother?”
“You’re throwing it all away because you’re afraid of a confrontation with that pissant, and you’re doing it at the expense of Connor and the fine education he’s worked hard for!”
Oh-hoh. Hold on there. “I’m not doing any such thing. I’m avoiding confrontation
because
of my son. What good will it do for Connor if I chase after his father for money while I scream at the top of my lungs? How is that solving anything?”
Her mother’s finger tapped the counter where the divorce papers now lay. “It’s showing him you have some pride, kiddo. That when it comes time to keep that disgrace of a father from taking everything from him just because Connor believes what his father did to you is wrong, you’ve got him covered. Slugging Finley was fine, but it won’t pay for Connor to go to college. You’re weak, Maxine! Weak and sniveling. I never thought in a million years I’d say that to the fruit of my looms—”
“Loins. It’s loins,” she took peevish, seething joy in correcting her.
“Your Fruit of the Looms cover your loins. Whatever,” Mona shouted back. “I never thought I’d call you weak, but this,” she spat, pointing a finger at the paper Maxine was prepared to sign just to get Fin to leave them alone. “
This
is lying down and dying. That child support isn’t enough to care for an orphan in Ethiopia, and coming from a man who makes more money than God. It’s disgusting,” she sneered, her eyes narrowing with blazing flashes of anger. “And you’re gonna let him do it, too, knowing Connor wants into a school you’ll never be able to afford alone, instead of getting up off your ass and fighting back! What kind of example does
that
set for your son?”
Mona’s anger wasn’t the worst of what Max heard in her voice. It was her disappointment, so ugly and clear. It was the same kind of disappointment her mother had had in her tone when she’d told her she was marrying Finley in the first place. Her hands gripped the edge of the countertop. “We’ve gone over this, Mom. I don’t have the resources to fight Finley for anything. It takes money to make money, isn’t that what they say?”
“They sure do, Miss Answer For Everything. They also say the rich just get richer, and in this case, that no good piece of crap’s doing just that. At
Connor’s
expense, and you’re letting him! I’d give you the resources, if you’d just let me, but noooo—it’s so much easier to pull the covers over your head and whine about your life instead of putting on your boxing gloves and going a couple of rounds with the almighty Finley Cambridge!”
If her mother’d slugged her, she couldn’t have felt more bruised. Not just because it hurt to be called weak but because she was right. She was afraid to rock the boat. Afraid to take that one last step into the deep end of chaos. A step that would show Finley he couldn’t take advantage of her pansy-ass nature anymore.
A step for Connor.
Mona rounded on her, justified anger in her eyes. “You know what you need to do here, Maxine? You need to
suck it up, Princess
. Stop throwing your hands up in the air like the sky’s falling, Henny-Penny! Stop letting everyone else do everything for you, and do it for yourself. Did you get so used to Finley doing everything, you’ve forgotten how to do anything on your own? Find your pride, for Christ’s sake. Stop damned well letting everything and everyone roll over you and use that mouth of yours you sure don’t mind using when it comes to anyone else
but
Finley Cambridge these days! Suck up your fears. Suck up your notion that that husband of yours can have whatever he wants if he leans on you hard enough. But most of all, suck it up for Connor. He deserves better!”
The stomp of Mona’s feet on the kitchen floor left Max with her bitter words ringing in her ears.
Suck it up, Princess.
Like it was that simple.
Princess.
Hah.
 
“So he’s refusing to pay for Connor’s college education?”
Each and every time she heard that, she wanted to punch something. “Yep. If I sign those divorce papers, I’m divorced and Connor’s never going to see the college of his dreams. Not on my income.”
“And if you don’t sign the papers?”
“If I know Finley, this will go on and on until I do what he wants.”
The hard line of Campbell’s jaw tightened. “You’re not going to do what he wants.”
He didn’t question it. He’d clearly already decided she had more of a backbone than she really did. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted truthfully. “Could we talk about something else? This is my problem, not yours.”
“I want to help, Max.”
“
Please
,” she said, her eyes weary from the argument with her mother and the battle she’d waged all day in her head about what to do next. “Let’s just be together, okay?”
Campbell pulled Max into his embrace, nuzzling her neck, tugging the corners of the flimsy blanket he’d brought tighter around them. “Have it your way, but tomorrow’s a new day, and you’re only putting off the inevitable.”
Her sigh was of relief. “Thank you.”
“You know, truck beds are hard on an old man’s back.” He rubbed his bare flesh for emphasis with the hand that had just driven her insane with lust.
Max giggled, gazing up at the stars in an inky sky. “You should be my ass right now. I think it has ‘Chevy’ branded on it.”
He slid down, nipping at her right ass cheek. “This isn’t a Chevy.”
Her hands went to his shoulders, reveling in the hard muscle with a squeeze. She hissed when he parted her flesh, swiping at her clit with a hot tongue. “Maybe we should get an air mattress.”
“Hmmm,” he moaned, vibrating the most intimate part of her. “Or I could just get my own apartment.”
Max froze beneath him. “You’re leaving the village?”
Acknowledging the obvious panic in her voice, Campbell slid back up along her length. “If I did, we could make love on a real live bed instead of sneaking off to the woods in my truck. I have to laugh at that, you know. Don’t you see the irony in both of us, grown adults, mind you, reduced to sneaking away in a truck to be alone?”
A small piece of this new rock she’d found began to crumble. Max had to force a light tone and keep the clingy tucked away. “But what about Garner?” Yeah. That was good. Use one situation to avoid talking about the real issue.
He palmed the back of her head, kissing the tip of her nose. “Honey, my father’s getting better and better all the time. And we can’t go on like this forever.”
Why not? Why couldn’t everything just stay like it was? Was there a rule that said anything had to change?
What would her day be like if Campbell didn’t pick her up and bring her to the village office for work? What would her day be like if she didn’t fill a thermos with coffee made especially for him? What would it be like if he didn’t bring her favorite sandwich of bologna and cheese with mustard and mayo on it? What would trips to Home Depot to buy supplies for the office be if Campbell wasn’t there to help her choose the best Shop-Vac for the village’s money? What would a morning not wondering if Campbell would like her new perfume be like?
And whoaaaaaaa.
Holy shit. What had happened to the woman who wasn’t ever going to allow her universe to revolve around a man ever again? Yet, here she was doing it—all over again.
What would it be like if Campbell wasn’t her every stupid thing
, she mocked in her head.
“Talk to me, Max,” Campbell said, his tone taking a serious edge. “I see the wheels spinning. So say it. We promised we’d talk.”
No, no, no. She’d rather die than admit she didn’t want him to leave the cozy world they’d created within the confines of the village. She’d rather have her skin peeled off one layer at a time than turn into a jealous shrew.
Jesus. Not once in her marriage had she ever been jealous until Finley started cheating. Then she’d turned into a suspicious lunatic who was always a mess on the inside.
She was
not
going back to that place. She would not be that woman again. That woman was ugly and paranoid. “No, you’re right. It would be nice to have some alone time that doesn’t include us getting chapped lips.” Max forced a cheerful tone, but Campbell wasn’t buying it.
“I’d like to think you mean that, honey, but you’re a crappy liar.” Grabbing the bottle of wine they’d purchased on the way to their old high school hangout, he offered her a swig.

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