The Obsession(13)

Still, everything settled into a kind of routine, with school for her and Mason, the restaurant for Harry, the office where Seth worked on investing other people’s money, and her mother working part-time as a waitress.

Then Seth came home from work one night with a tabloid paper in his hand, and there was hell to pay.

Naomi cringed. She’d never seen her uncle angry, never heard him raise his voice. Now she didn’t know what to do as she was making chicken and rice like Harry had shown her on the big gas cooktop while Mason sat at the eating counter dawdling over his homework, and Mama sat staring off into space and pretending to help.

Her mother jumped up to stand when Seth slapped the paper down on the counter. And Naomi saw that the front of it had a picture of her father and, oh God, one of her from picture day back at Pine Meadows Middle School.

“How could you? How could you do this to your children, to yourself?”

Susan clutched at the little gold cross around her neck. “Don’t yell at me. I didn’t say hardly anything.”

“You said enough. Did you give them this picture of Naomi? Did you tell them you were living here in D.C.?”

Now her shoulders hunched together, the way, Naomi thought, they used to when Daddy gave her a mean look.

“They paid me five thousand dollars. I’ve got to earn my way, don’t I?”

“Like this? Selling your daughter’s picture to the tabloids?”

“He could’ve gotten it without me, you know it, and they’ve been writing about all this for weeks now. It never stops.”

“They didn’t have her picture, Susan.” As if weary, Seth pulled the knot of his red tie loose. “They didn’t know y’all were living here.”

When the phone rang, he held up a hand to stop Naomi. “Don’t answer it. Let it go to the machine. I had six calls at my office already. It wouldn’t take long to dig up an unlisted number. Unlisted to protect you and the children, Suze, from what’s going to happen now.”

“They’re always at the prison, pestering at me.” With her shoulders still hunched, Susan pressed her lips together.

There were lines deep around her mouth, Naomi noted. Lines that hadn’t been there before that hot summer night.

“And Tom said we could make some good money. He can’t do it himself, it’s the law, but . . .”

“You can funnel it to him.”

Susan flushed deeply, the way she did when deeply embarrassed or angry. “I’ve got a duty to my husband, Seth. They got him locked up, and in what they call the special area. He said how he needs money to pay the lawyer to work out getting him in general population.”

“Ah, Christ, Suze, that’s just bullshit. Don’t you know bullshit when you hear it?”

“Don’t use that language.”

“The language bothers you, but this doesn’t?” He slapped a hand on the tabloid as the phone began to ring again. “Did you read it?”

“No, no, I didn’t read it. I don’t want to read it. They—they kept pestering me, and Tom said he’d start getting more respect if he could tell his story, and I could back him up.”

“Nobody respects tabloids. Even he’d know . . .” He paused, and Naomi snuck a look, thought he seemed more sick than angry now. “Who else pestered you? Who else have you talked to?”

“I talked to Simon Vance.”

“The writer. True crime.”

“He’s a professional. His publisher’s going to pay me twenty-five thousand dollars. It says so right in the contract.”

“You signed a contract.”

“It’s professional.” Eyes glazed, lips trembling, Susan threw her arms out as if to ward off an attack. “And there’ll be more when they make the movie deal. He said.”

“Susan.” Naomi knew despair now, and heard it in her uncle’s voice. “What have you done?”

“I can’t get by waiting tables. And that doctor you make me go to, she said how I need to work on my self-confidence. I need to get a place closer to the prison so I don’t have to take your car and drive so far. Tom wants me and the kids closer.”

“I’m not going there.”

Susan spun around at Naomi’s voice, and the heat of anger seared through the tears. “Don’t sass me.”

“I’m not sassing, I’m saying. I won’t go. If you take me, I’ll run off.”

“You’ll do what your daddy and I tell you.” Hysterics—Naomi had heard them often enough in the last four months to recognize them—spiked into Susan’s voice. “We can’t stay here.”

“Why is that, Susan?” Seth spoke quietly. “Why can’t you stay here?”

“You live with a man, Seth. You live in sin with a man. A black man.”

“Naomi, honey.” Seth’s voice stayed quiet, but his eyes—full of noise—stayed on Susan’s face. “You and Mason go on upstairs for a bit, will you?”

“I got dinner on.”

“Smells good, too. Just take it off the heat for a bit, all right? You go on up, help Mason finish his homework.”

Mason slid off the stool, wrapped his arms around Seth. “Don’t make us go away. Don’t let her take us away. Please, I want to stay with you.”