I looked at my watch. Three minutes to go. If I called early, Danny wouldn't answer. If I called late, then tough shit, 7:10 was my cut-off no matter what time I called. And if I called past 7:10, he wouldn't pick up. Again, shit out of luck. The calling too late thing had only happened once, when I was in a client meeting. I vowed it wouldn't happen again, clients be damned.
Two minutes to go. I treasured every second I had with my kids, and I hated Danny for doing this to me. How could he turn on me like this?
Easy, I thought. He's afraid of you. And when people are afraid they do evil, hurtful things.
One minute. I rolled up my window. I wanted to be able to hear my kids. I didn't want some damn Harley coming by and drowning out little Anthony's comically high-pitched voice, or Tammy's too-serious recounting of that day's school lessons.
Thirty seconds. I had my finger over the cell phone's send button, Danny's home number - my old home number - already selected from my contact list and ready to go.
Ten seconds. Outside, somewhere beyond the nearby freeway's arching overpass, the sun was beginning to set and I was beginning to feel good. Damn good. In fact, within minutes I was about to feel stronger than I had any right to feel.
And I was about to talk to my kids, too. A smile that I hadn't felt all day touched my lips.
At 7:00 p.m. on the nose, I pushed the send button. The phone rang once and Danny picked up immediately.
"The kids aren't here," he said immediately in his customary monotone.
"But - "
"They're with Nancy getting some ice cream."
Nancy was, of course, the home-wrecker. His secretary fling that had become more than a fling. The name of that witch alone nearly sent me into a psychotic rage.
"They're with her?"
"Yes. They like her. We all do."
"When will they be back?"