Restitution

CHAPTER 3-2

“That’s what I keep telling myself, Gary. And I’m sure it has to be the case, but—”

“But nothing.”

“No, but something. Lisa and I split up at the end of 2001, almost two years ago.”

“Yeah. So?”

“How old do you think that girl is? Because if she’s at least fourteen months, just add on an extra nine and the math works out.”

“She wasn’t that old, Sean.”

“You sure about that? I mean, she was old enough to be standing and walking.”

Lumbergh lifted his hands, his palms facing Sean to keep the peace. “Listen, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. We don’t even know if that girl belonged to Lisa.”

“Do you kiss any little girls besides your daughter, Gary? And then, of course, she made out with the father.”

“There!” said Lumbergh, snapping his finger. “Right there. Rewind that and listen to what you just said. The little girl’s father. He’s the father, Sean, not you.”

Sean’s nostrils flared. He let his eyes fall off Lumbergh as he took in a couple of deep breaths. “Are you saying she was cheating on me with him, then?”

“What?” Lumbergh said, his face recoiling. “No . . . God, no. I’m saying—again—that the girl’s too young to be yours. You understand that, right?”

Sean glared at Lumbergh for a moment before the two realized that a half dozen spectators had stopped within earshot and were listening to their exchange. This included a drink waitress in fishnets and the old man whose machine Sean had taken over. The man’s mouth dangled open as he waited for Sean’s response.

Sean grunted and stood up. “Come on,” he said to Lumbergh, patting his shoulder.

Sean led the way toward a gold-colored revolving door at the side of the casino, whisking his way past a young couple shouting at a roulette wheel. He glanced at a casino guard in a suit and tie who hovered beside the door. He leered over his shoulder to check if any of the eavesdroppers had followed them. When he saw that none had, he stopped short of the door and motioned Lumbergh over to the empty wall beside it.

“Okay,” Sean began. “I’m not trying to be an asshole and ruin this trip, and I get what you’re saying. And like you said, I’m probably dead wrong. But—”

Lumbergh jumped in. “But you unexpectedly saw Lisa for the first time in two years, and a lot of emotions came flooding back at once. It’s perfectly normal to have some trouble processing it.”

Sean glared at him. “Well, thanks, Dr. Ruth. But that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that she wasn’t wearing a ring.”

Lumbergh’s face twisted in confusion. “Lisa?”

“No, the old lady at your blackjack table. Of course Lisa.”

Lumbergh rolled his eyes. “So, what are you saying?”

Sean bit his lip. “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” He gazed across the room emptily before returning his attention to Lumbergh. “I mean, they’re a family of some kind. That’s obvious. But Lisa would be wearing a ring if they were married. Trust me on this. She’s big on commitment. She had a hard enough time just taking off Kyle’s ring.”

“Her ex-husband.”

“Yeah, her dead ex-husband. The same guy who’d filled her head with bullshit the entire time they were married. The same guy who’d been cheating on her with Vincenzo Moretti’s wife, which is why he’s her dead ex-husband.”

Sean noticed the security guard twist his head toward them. The guy was probably in his fifties—stocky with slicked back hair that was dyed black. Old school. He glared at them for a moment through tight eyes before tugging his focus back to the broader room.

“You probably don’t want to be saying that name too loudly around here,” said Lumbergh, lowering his voice.

“Why?” Sean asked. “He’s behind bars.”

“Moretti was a big deal in this town. Owned a lot of businesses. Multiple casinos. Hell, maybe even this one.”

“So?”

“So . . . Former associates of his might not hold a warm view of two of the guys who helped put him behind those bars. Moretti was a crime lord. A lot of people here probably lost a hell of a lot of money when he went down.”

“Whatever,” Sean said, dismissing Lumbergh’s concern. “What I’m saying is that if the guy at the school were the girl’s father, Lisa would be married to him.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of speculation based on two people kissing,” said Lumbergh, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And think about what you’re saying. If she would have married the father of her child, and you haven’t heard from her in two years, doesn’t that pretty much prove you’re not the father?”

Sean stared at Lumbergh, letting his brother-in-law’s words sink in.

Lumbergh leaned forward and put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Listen. I get it,” he said in a softer tone. “That scene back there was a lot to take. Dusty didn’t help matters. But whatever the situation is between those people, that little girl isn’t yours.”

After a moment, Sean found himself nodding. Lumbergh was making too much sense to prolong the argument.

“So, why don’t you just try your best to forget about it,” Lumbergh added. “Let’s get Dusty and get to the show. We’ll grab a quick bite to eat over there before it starts.”

Sean scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, the show.”

Lumbergh snickered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Of all of the entertainment choices in this town, he goes with that one,” Sean moaned.

“Well, it was his call. Groom’s privilege.”

“Which is one of life’s great miracles in itself. His fiancée’s not even half bad looking from the pictures I’ve seen. No antlers sticking out of her head or anything.”

Lumbergh chuckled. “Just be glad he didn’t choose something at Circus Circus.”

“Oh God,” said Sean. “He would have handed someone his resume.”

Lumbergh smiled, seemingly relieved that the tone and topic of the conversation had changed in a positive direction. “Let’s go get him and get some food.”

“Fine.”

The two men made their way back through the casino toward the lobby.

“It’s a good thing you’re doing here,” said Lumbergh. “Being a good friend and coming out here with him. It doesn’t sound like he has many.”

“Many what?”

“Friends.”

Sean nodded, thinking back to when he and Dusty had first met in South Carolina a little over a year earlier. Sean had flown out to collect the body of his dead uncle, who he’d thought, prior to his death, had dated Dusty’s mother. It ended up being a case of a mistaken relationship, not realized until after the two had begrudgingly spent a couple of days together—two very long days.

Lumbergh’s Circus Circus joke had been on target, as Dusty was a professional clown—a birthday clown to be exact. Parents hired him for their children’s parties where he’d make balloon animals, tell jokes, and perform tricks. Dusty took the job seriously—often too seriously. He had a habit of shifting into some obscure character in the middle of casual conversations and remaining in that character out of some artistic commitment to the craft. It used to drive Sean nuts and still did at times. Sean sometimes wondered how he made it through those two days in South Carolina without putting his fist through Dusty’s teeth.

But Dusty had become a real friend, staying in frequent contact and checking in on Sean’s progress during his rehab. It meant a lot to Sean, and like Dusty, Sean didn’t have many friends to spare.

He was genuinely happy Dusty had found someone—a waitress from a seafood joint in Pawleys Island. Sean had never met her but felt like he’d come to know her from Dusty’s descriptions. The two had only been an item for three months prior to Dusty popping the question. Sean hoped it would work out. If she’d managed to put up with his bullshit that long, perhaps it was meant to be.

Destiny. The word had been bouncing off the walls of Sean’s head since the moment Dusty had used it back at the school. Dusty was just being obnoxious at the time, but he’d had a point. What were the odds of the three of them missing an exit in a faraway city, coming upon Lisa’s school, and doing so at the precise time she was standing outside it? They couldn’t have been any better than Sean winning a $1M jackpot on slots that weekend and flying back home in a private jet.

But Lumbergh was right too. Sean’s relationship with Lisa was history. Part of his past, not his future. She now had a family, and judging by the smile on her face, she was happy. With Sean, she hadn’t been.

Sean and Lumbergh had barely reached the lobby when a set of elevator doors slid open. From between them came a portly man clad in a loud, large-rimmed red cowboy hat and matching suit and boots. Sean winced and lowered his head, about to make a crack to Lumbergh about the getup. That’s when he realized it was Dusty who was wearing it.

“Oh Jesus,” Sean said loudly, stopping in his tracks. “Are you f*****g kidding me?”

Dusty spun toward them, grinning and pointing both index fingers at Sean’s chest. He snapped his hands up and down, emulating the firing of western revolvers. “Vegas, baby,” he said with a wink and a snapping noise with his tongue.

Lumbergh turned to Sean, cringing as if a bandage were about to be ripped from his skin.

“Nope, we’re not doing this,” Sean said to Dusty, his jaw clenched. “When I said to leave that s**t at home, I was serious.” Dusty’s smile shot to a frown. “You said to leave my clown clothes at home.”

“That included rodeo clown clothes, dumbass,” Sean growled. “Sorry, you’re not a dumbass, but . . .”

“It’s no big deal,” said Lumbergh, placing his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “There are lots of people around here decked out in crazy outfits.”

“Yeah, they’re called performers,” said Sean.

“I’m a performer,” Dusty insisted.

“You’re an i***t,” said Sean. “Sorry,” he quickly added, gritting his teeth.

He took his eyes off Dusty and closed them after a moment. The memory of the Old West photo incident with Lisa was still fresh in his mind. Recognizing some correlation between the regrets he had and his current situation, he brought his clenched fists to his sides and forced them open. As if it were the end of a routine, he drew in a deep, calming breath.

“I can’t control how others act,” Sean whispered to himself. “I can only control how I act.” When he opened his eyes two seconds later, he found both men glaring at him with furrowed brows. “Okay,” he said, nodding and bringing more air into his lungs. “I’m okay.”

Dusty’s head receded above his chins, his eyes shifting back and forth between Sean and Lumbergh. “What the hell was that?” he asked, following the question with a boisterous chuckle.

Lumbergh shook his head at Dusty, seemingly worried his bluster would reignite a situation that had been diffused. “Okay!” he said with a surge in his voice, and an eagerness to change the subject. “Let’s grab the car and get some dinner.”

Sean nodded, taking in another deliberate breath.

“Okay then, partners,” Dusty said in a western accent, puffing out his chest. “Let’s get some grub.” He placed his hands on his belt and led the way toward the glass doors at the entrance, the soles of his red boots clacking along the granite floor.

Lumbergh shook his head and turned to Sean. “Did you learn that in rehab? That was impressive.”

“What?”

“That thing you said about not being able to control what others do.”

“No, I got it from Diana. I think she heard it from that Dr. Phil guy.”

“Hey!” Dusty shouted, spinning back around and pointing. His voice caught the attention of others in the lobby. “Do you know what this feels like?”

“Embarrassment?” said Sean.

“No!” said Dusty, his voice still uncomfortably loud. “It’s like that show, Crime Story. Do you remember that?”

Sean did. He used to watch the NBC crime show pretty regularly in the ’80s, and he hated that he was pretty sure he knew the specific comparison Dusty was about to make.

Dusty affirmed it. “During the opening song when those three cops are walking out of that old Las Vegas casino! Real badasses. Hey, the main guy’s even from Chicago like you, Chief Lumbergh!”

“Gary,” said Lumbergh.

“Hey, we should walk like those guys!” proposed Dusty.

“No,” said Sean.

“Do you remember how that song went?” asked Dusty, head bouncing between Lumbergh and Sean.

“No,” said Sean, though he did indeed remember. The song was “Runaway,” a popular 1960s tune by Del Shannon.

Dusty remembered as well, puffing out his chest and adding some swagger to his step as the glass doors in front of them slid open. “I wonder . . . I wo-wo-wo-wonder,” he loudly sang out in a high-pitched voice.

A couple walking in c****d their heads at the display. Dusty tipped his hat at the woman.

“Don’t,” Sean told Dusty, lifting his hand to the side of his face. He slid his eyes to Lumbergh, who was covering up as well.

“Why . . . why-why-why-why-why . . .”

May 8, 1983

Chihuahua, Mexico