The Perfect Son Page 4

  The woman nods. “That’s Olivia Reynolds. She’s a really strong debater. But not as good as the boy. Liam.”

  “Liam is my son,” I say, allowing for an instant that touch of pride I often deny myself when I talk about Liam these days.

  “Is he?” The woman’s eyes light up. “Well, he is absolutely wonderful. Very talented. You must be really proud of him. I wish my son could speak half as well.”

  I smile, trying to enjoy the compliment, but my mind is racing. Olivia Reynolds. That’s the girl Liam is interested in. And it’s not surprising, because she is absolutely beautiful. Of course Liam would like her.

  I’ve got to fix this.

  I excuse myself from this woman who won’t stop gushing about my son, and I step out of the auditorium. I just need to make a quick call. I’ll be back in time for the debate.

  I check the contacts on my phone, searching for the name Frank Marino. My heart is pounding as I click on his name. The phone rings once. Then again.

  It’s Frank. Leave a message.

  Voicemail.

  “Frank? It’s Erika Cass. I need to talk to you. There’s another… Please call me back. As soon as you can.”

  Frank is very reliable. He’ll call back tonight.

  I return to the auditorium where the students are assembled on the stage. Liam is behind the podium. Sometimes I look at him, and I can’t get over how that tiny helpless baby grew up into this handsome, intelligent young man. There were times when Liam was an infant when I imagined what he’d be like when he was older.

  I was so naïve. I had no idea what was to come.

  Liam gives a great performance, as usual. His team wins the debate, as if there was ever any doubt. He is an excellent performer and speaker. When he was in third grade, he had to give a presentation for class, and he insisted on wearing his nicest button-down shirt and pants. He even dug out the black clip-on tie I bought him for a wedding the year before. I thought he was absolutely adorable and took about a hundred photographs. It’s almost a decade later, and he still takes public speaking just as seriously.

  Liam is also very competitive. I don’t know how much he cares about debate per se, but he definitely cares about winning. Whenever he does well in a track meet or a debate, he’s in a great mood. But if he doesn’t do well, he gets quiet and won’t talk much that evening. Fortunately for him, he’s very good at winning. And he’s very good at getting what he wants.

  I won’t let him have what he wants this time.

  Liam’s eyes light up when he sees me walking over to congratulate him. “Did you see, Mom? We won! We get to go to State!”

  I grin at him. “You did great.”

  He loosens his tie, which makes him look older than sixteen. Unlike when he was eight, he knows how to tie his own tie now—no more clip-ons. I watched him practicing it in a mirror a couple of years ago until he could do it perfect. “Thanks.”

  Before I can say anything else, Mrs. Randall links her arm into mine and pulls me away from my son. Mrs. Randall is a history teacher who is also in charge of the debate team. She taught Liam American history during his freshman year, and was the one who encouraged him to join the debate team. I remember Liam got an A+ in the class, and the comment on his report card was that he was the best student in the class. Hannah has her now for American history, but based on Hannah’s recent comment that Mrs. Randall is a “bitch,” I have a feeling my daughter won’t be getting a similar grade.

  “Mrs. Cass!” Mrs. Randall is almost glowing from the win, her gray hair coming loose from her sensible bun. “Liam was great out there, wasn’t he?”

  I nod, although I’m distracted by the fact that Liam has gone over to talk to Olivia again. “Yes. I know he’s been practicing a lot.”

  “He is so diligent. I wish all my students had that sort of work ethic.” She smiles at me. She is solidly in the Liam Cass fan club. “Next stop is Albany! And I bet we’ll get to Nationals this year. That will look great on his resume when he applies to college.”

  Yes, in less than two years, Liam will be going away to college. I can’t even think about it. The thought of him being alone and up to his own devices terrifies me.

  “That’s wonderful,” I say.

  The smile slips slightly from her lips. “By the way, I hate to bring this up now, but Hannah has missed several of her homework assignments this month.”

  It’s the only thing she could have said to tear my attention away from Liam and Olivia. “She… she did?”

  Mrs. Randall nods slowly. “Each missed homework subtracts from her overall grade. And her last test score was…”

  “I know.” I wince, thinking of the red score on Hannah’s history exam that required my signature. Unlike Liam, Hannah has never been a strong student, but high school is proving to be even worse than middle school so far. “I’ll talk to her about it and make sure she shows me her homework every night.”

  “I’m certain she can turn things around.” Mrs. Randall looks back over at Liam, then back at me. “I’m sure she has it in her.”

  I know what she’s implying, but Hannah is nothing like Liam. She doesn’t look like him and her personality is completely different. Mrs. Randall isn’t the first teacher who has been disappointed by the discrepancy.

  But not every teacher loves my son. He’s gotten so much better at charming adults, but some of them can see right through him. There was one in particular about three years ago. That’s a mess I don’t want to think about ever again. When I remember what Liam did…

  I’ve got to talk to Frank. Tonight.

  Chapter 10

  Erika

  “Mom! Mom, are you listening to me?”

  My head snaps up from the dishes in the sink. Hannah is supposed to be unloading the dishwasher while I clean the pots, but instead, she’s spent the last several minutes ranting about some girl in her math class named Ashley. I’ve been so absorbed in the events of today that I guess I tuned her out. I have no idea what Hannah has said in the last several minutes. I close my eyes, hoping I can rewind the ribbon in my brain, but I can’t. Whatever Hannah said is gone forever.

  “Um,” I finally say.

  “I knew it!” Hannah looks triumphant. “You weren’t listening to me. You never listen to me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Fine. Then tell me something that’s going on with me.”

  I put down the sauce pan I’m rinsing off. “You’re not handing in your American history homework?”

  Hannah’s cheeks turn pink. “I told you. Those assignments are stupid.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You still have to do them.”

  “But what’s the point? Why do I need to know about some stupid war that happened, like, five-hundred years ago?”

  “The revolutionary war happened two-hundred-fifty years ago, Hannah.”

  “Ugh!” She puts her hands on her hips. She’s been doing that when she’s upset ever since she was two years old. “What’s the difference? It’s still a really long time ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you think it’s stupid or not. It’s part of your education. Liam always—”

  “Right. Liam. You want me to be just like him. Because he’s so perfect.”

  I turn to Hannah, staring at her pale, round face. I’m not entirely sure if she’s being sarcastic or not. Most of the worst stuff with Liam happened when he was much younger—I would imagine Hannah is too young to even remember. When we sent him to Dr. Hebert, he was only seven and Hannah was five. I’ve tried my best to shield her from what goes on, but sometimes I wonder how much she knows.

  Does Hannah know anything? Everything? What has Liam told her? Did she mention Olivia in the car to tease Liam or to tip me off?

  “After all,” Hannah adds, “he’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

  My cheeks burn. I hate that it’s so obvious how I favor Liam over her. I shouldn’t. It’s a sign of terrible parenting. I read once that most children long for their parent
s to be proud of them, so it makes sense that Hannah is struggling in school if she feels like she’ll never do as well as her brother.

  “Hannah,” I say, “you know that’s not true. I love both of you equally.”

  She snorts.

  “Look. Why don’t we do something together? Just the two of us. I can take you to the mall this weekend and we can get you some new clothes. We haven’t had a shopping spree in almost a year. I owe you.”

  My daughter narrows her eyes at me, but it doesn’t take much to win her over. New clothes usually do the job. “Can we go on Saturday?”

  “Sure.”

  “And can we go to Purple Haze after?”

  Purple Haze is an ice cream shop that Hannah used to love when she was a little kid. “Of course.”

  Her lips widen in a smile. “Okay. That sounds good.”

  Of course, then I start to second-guess myself. I just discovered Hannah hasn’t been handing in her history assignments. Maybe this situation doesn’t call for a reward. But now that I’ve told her we’re doing this, I can’t very well take it back.

  “But,” I add, “we’ll only go if you hand in all your history homework this week. And I want to see it, Hannah.”

  Hannah looks like she’s about to start pouting, but then her shoulders drop. “Okay. Fine.”

  A small victory.

  Before we can make a further dent in the dishes, the front door opens, and the heavy footsteps of my husband and son float into the kitchen. Jason took Liam out for another driving lesson tonight. Apparently, things are going very well—Liam is a natural behind the wheel. No surprises there.

  They come to find us in the kitchen, where we’ve barely made a dent in our chores for the evening. Jason is grinning broadly, and he slings an arm around Liam’s shoulders. “What can I say, Erika? Our kid is a great driver. Just like his dad.”

  I shoot him a look.

  “And his mom,” Jason quickly adds.

  Hannah snorts. “Nice save, Dad.”

  She has commented on more than one occasion that I’ve got Jason completely whipped. I don’t know if it’s true, but he’s a good husband. I don’t have to nag him to take out the garbage, he always remembers our anniversary, and he changed more than his fair share of diapers when the kids were little.

  If there’s one thing I would change about him, I’d wish he were a little less laid-back. Especially when it comes to my concerns about Liam. He’s always shrugged everything off as “boys will be boys.” But I know one of these days it’s going to be bad enough that he won’t be able to do that anymore.

  I look at Liam, and his face has no expression until he notices me watching him. Then he smiles. “I can’t wait to get my license,” he says.

  “And then you can drive me to school in the morning,” Hannah pipes up.

  “Sure.” Liam gives me a pointed look. “If Mom and Dad get me a car.”

  “We’ll see,” Jason says. “For now, stick with your mother’s Toyota.”

  I brace myself, waiting for him to add, “We’ll probably get you one for your birthday.” But he doesn’t. Thank God. I think Liam will be a good driver, but something about him having his own car makes me a little uneasy.

  “But Liam did do great today.” Jason joins me at the dishwasher and starts unloading dishes on his own, even though it’s Hannah’s job. “He checked his mirrors when he was supposed to. He did the right thing when we got to every stop sign. I wasn’t terrified even once.”

  Liam laughs. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’ve got to be careful out there,” he says. He pulls out a couple of plates from the dishwasher and cocks his head thoughtfully. “Hey. Did you hear about the guy who lost his left arm and leg in a car accident? But he’s all right now.”

  Hannah lets out a groan. Liam and I are silent. “He’s all right now,” Jason says. “Because he has no left arm or leg. Get it?”

  “No, I get it,” I say.

  Jason grins at me. “Well, you’re not laughing. So I thought I needed to explain it.”

  “Nope.”

  Jason winks. Even before the kids were born, he used to tell his cheesy jokes. But back then, a lot of the jokes involved a saucy double entendre. Now they’re straight up dad jokes. But I find it endearing that he persists in making them, even though nobody laughs.

  My phone starts ringing from the living room. I use the generic ringtone my iPhone came with, because I can’t be bothered to change it. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure how. My husband is a tech guy and I can’t change the ringtone on my phone.

  I hurry to the phone and pick it up before it stops ringing. I stare down at the name that pops up on the screen. Frank Marino.

  Frank is calling me back.

  I quietly slip outside to take the call. And I shut the door behind me.

  Chapter 11

  Erika

  “Erika Cass.”

  Frank’s Brooklyn accent rings out on the line. It’s so thick that you know he was born and raised there. I found him four years ago—in the Yellow Pages. I searched under private detectives and selected his name randomly. I had no idea what I was doing, and I’m lucky that Frank turned out to be as good as he is.

  I don’t want to think about what might have happened if not for his help.

  “Hi, Frank,” I say. “Thanks for calling me back so quickly.”

  “For you, Erika? Anything. What do you need?”

  Frank is a smooth talker. That’s what I thought the first and only time I met him in person three years ago, right before the first job I hired him for. He looked just like he sounded—greasy black hair threaded with gray, yellowing teeth from years of smoking, and sharp eyes that didn’t miss a thing. The man made me nervous. But he’s always done everything I’ve asked him to. For the right price.

  “The girl’s name is Olivia Reynolds,” I say. “She goes to Liam’s school. Same arrangement as last time. Okay?”

  Frank is quiet, hopefully scribbling down the information. “Olivia Reynolds. Spelled how it sounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Got it.”

  “Same thing as last time. Okay?”

  “Okay, you got it.” There’s shuffling on the other line. “I never seen a woman so eager to cock block her kid. Sometimes I think he’s going to be discussing this in therapy someday.”

  My fingers tighten around the phone until my fingertips tingle. Frank has done this for me many times, and this is the first time he felt the need to comment. “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll get somebody else.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “Because if you won’t do it, tell me now.”

  “Shit, Erika. Relax. I was just kidding around.”

  My shoulders relax. “Good.”

  “One more thing,” Frank says. “My prices went up.”

  “How much?”

  He quotes a number nearly twice as much as what I paid last time. My chest tightens. He knows it was an empty threat when I said I would get somebody else. He knows I’m not going to get somebody else. I need him. “Fine.”

  “It’s nice working with you, as always, Erika.”

  Just do your job, you piece of shit. I grit my teeth, angry I can’t say the words that are going through my head. But he’s going to do what I need him to do. He’s going to help me save my son from himself.

  Chapter 12

  Olivia

  Even though it might not be a real date, I could not possibly be more nervous about going to the diner with Liam tonight.

  I tried on every item in my closet last night in front of the mirror. Twice. I put on a skirt that was way too short and I would have loved to have Liam see it on me, but it would’ve looked like I was trying too hard. (Also, I’m not entirely sure my mother would’ve let me out of the house.) We’re just going out for some food after track team practice, after all. In the end, I decide to go with cute casual. I tug on my cutest skinny jeans, paired with a red tank top. And then I spend another hour in
front of the mirror, trying to get my hair just right.

  Boys are exhausting.

  Right now, I’m standing in front of the school in my cute tank top and jeans, hugging my body for warmth. My upper arms are covered in tiny little goosebumps, but my jacket isn’t super sexy and I don’t want to wear it in front of Liam. I hope he appreciates how much I’m suffering for him.

  Madison has decided to wait with me, but I almost wish she didn’t. She is not a source of positive energy right now. She’s never liked Liam very much, but right now she is downright unsupportive. It seems like she’s trying to convince me to blow off Liam before this even gets started.

  “And on top of everything else, he’s late.” Madison pulls her phone out of her pocket and shoves it in my face to show me the time. “Is that what you want? A guy who’s going to keep you waiting all the time?”

  “He told me he might be late.” I start jogging in place to keep warm, but then I get freaked out about sweating. “He’s at track practice. It’s not his fault if he didn’t get out on time.”

  And not to mention Aidan is always late. It’s almost a guarantee.

  Madison sticks out her lower lip in a pout. “I just think he’s wrong for you.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Based on…” She glances around to make sure we’re the only people standing there. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, but… you know, Tyler Martinson used to be close friends with Liam.”

  I cringe at the name Tyler Martinson. He’s one of those obnoxious jock guys who plays football with Aidan. Solely because of that, I was spending some time with him at the beginning of the year, and I wasn’t all that surprised when he asked me out on a date. But I didn’t feel even the slightest bit of attraction to him, so I flat out turned him down. He seemed astonished, like he was doing me a favor by asking me out and couldn’t believe I said no. His obnoxious response made me even more glad I said no.

  “So apparently…” Madison lowers her voice a notch. “Tyler said he had to stop being friends with Liam, because Liam is legit crazy. Like, he would say and do all these crazy things. And Tyler got really freaked out.”