Page 64 of Infinite

Becca is not laughing. Not even a polite chuckle. She’spissed. I grin, thankful she’s not pissed at me.

“Charlie Sheen has made mistakes. Lots of them. But you know what? He owns his mistakes and all his crazy antics. So, instead of the world coming down on him, they excuse it away as part of his entitled Hollywood upbringing. Every last indiscretion Charlie was a part of never touched his father. Martin Sheen continued on as a well-respected and revered actor.”

“I get it,” I say. “So, if the prostitute had sense, she would have made big money. Denver would be able to embrace his inner bad boy without consequence, thereby permitting his father to keep his good name. In time, the elderly folks that Denver exposed his genitals to would forget the scandalous and cringe-worthy incident and chalk it up to another sordid tale of youth gone wild.”

“Exactly. Damn, Hale, you’re getting pretty good at this.”

“But nothing went according to plan,” I say. “So, what now?”

“Now, I have to try and make Denver look like the victim,” she mutters.

I rinse my plate, not loving where this is going. “A victim of a broken heart, because you dumped him?”

“Yes.”

“This doesn’t make him look good, Becks. It makes you look bad.”

“I know.”

“Then, why do it?” I ask. “It’s not like he’s going to give up snorting his daddy’s money up his nose and sign up for the priesthood.”

“You’re right, but . . .”

“But what, Becks?”

“Hale, I shouldn’t be talking about this, but I’m so tired of looking bad.”

“What are you talking about?”

I pad outside with a fresh glass of water. The dogs follow. Sam rests dutifully at my feet. Rosie jumps onto my lap, something I’m sure she wouldn’t do if Becca was here. I stroke her ears, wishing like this pooch that Becca was far away from everything Singleton.

“Becca, what did you mean by what you said? From everything you told me, the public adores you.”

“The public associated with the Cougars does.”

“What?” I ask. “Becks, you have to tell me a lot more than this if I’m going to help.” Becca makes this little sound. I barely hear it over the fuss the gulls are making and the increasing sound of crashing waves. “Are you crying?”

She doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

“Baby,” I say. “I don’t want you sad. Come home. Be with me. I’ll make you happy.”

“I know you will,” she whimpers. “It’s just . . . being in Kiawah with you has brought up a lot of memories. The ones surrounding us, and our friends are wonderful. The others, though, the ones outside our small group, they’re justawful.”

It doesn’t take a smart man to guess what she means. “You mean the ones with your family?”

The silence that follows is deafening and so are her words. “Hale, Daddy’s dying.”

My hand stops over Rosie’s head. She looks back at me, but I barely notice.

“He has colon cancer,” Becca explains. “It spread, even with the experimental chemo he was receiving. Momma called me this morning to say he doesn’t have more than a few weeks left.”

“She wants you to come home, doesn’t she?”

“She does.”

“Is that why you’re staying in Charlotte?” I ask.

“No. I have to fix this thing with Denver, somehow. But I won’t lie. Momma telling me what she did is a good reason to stay away.”

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