But it wasn’t touching at all.
It was liberating.
And they kept on begging. They kept going on and on about that harsh and cruel world she was about to embark upon, and she just held her fully packed beat-up suitcase as tightly as she could and let them beg. They were the harsh and cruel world to Janet. They were the bogeyman! And on that empowering morning, when she was finally an adult in the eyes of the law and could live on her own terms, she was not about to play the hypocrite. She was not about to smile in anybody’s face when they’d spent twelve years spitting in hers.
“Remember we’re your family,” Pa Henley had the nerve to say, bitterness in his eyes as if she was abandoning them. “You’ll need us before we need you!”
“Let her go,” Boy Henley said. “I’m sure her scrawny butt will be back when that world outside shows her what it’s made of. When that outside world overwhelms her dumb butt.”
Janet wanted to set him straight right then and there. She wanted to tell Boy Henley that they overwhelmed her, what was he talking about? That they showed her, day in and day out, what they were made of! How could that world outside be any worse than them?
But she didn’t say a word. Mo Riley always told her to never burn bridges. When he told her that, she was a little kid and didn’t know what he meant. “Who burns bridges?” she asked him. But he was clear. Be able to walk back across that bridge if you have to, he told her, and walk back across with your head held high.
That was why she didn’t cuss out the Henleys. That was why she didn’t stoop to their level and gave them a piece of her mind the way she’d been wanting to do for years on end. She kept her mind intact, kept her head held high, and walked on across that bridge.
To the other side.
CHAPTER TWO
In that world outside the bus put her out miles away from the Henley house, at the end of a busy block on Grundy Street, and she suddenly felt naked and alone. She was truly all by herself now. After twelve years a slave, it would take some getting used to.
She held her suitcase against her small frame and nervously looked at her paper that contained the address of the boarding home that was about to become her new home. And then she began heading in that direction.
What surprised her about that world outside was how different it felt. How busy it was. How there were so many people just milling about and going about their daily lives with laughter and talk as if they had nothing but time on their hands. And Janet smiled too. Because she felt free. Because it reminded her of where she lived when she lived with Mo Riley and his sweet wife. But Boy Henley was right about one thing. It did feel overwhelming!
And to get to her new home, she first had to walk by a group of men standing near the corner, up to no good, and laughing at her. Or trying to hit on her. She didn’t know which.
“Hey, you,” one of them said to her. But Janet knew enough to know to keep on walking.
“He’s talking to you, gal,” said another one. “Why you won’t answer the man? And you know you hear us!”
“Just look at yourself,” said a third one. “Looking all colonial in your Little House on the Prairie dress!”
And they all laughed again when he said that.
Janet knew why they were laughing. She wore a long dress with a sash in the back just like those children from the Little House on the Prairie tv show used to wear. But that was all the Henleys bought her. Dresses like that. But she’d already planned to use a few of the five hundred dollars the State gave to her when she left placement, and buy herself some clothes. Just a few outfits to get started. And long dresses with sashes in the back were not on her list. They could laugh all they wanted. One day, with God’s help, she was gonna laugh too.
And she kept on walking.
But when she got to that boarding house at the other end of the block, her heart sank. It was a rundown rathole. There was no other way to describe it. And when the landlady walked her up the stairs to the room she was about to rent for fifty bucks a week, that room, too, was a rundown, filthy rathole in a boarding house filled with rundown, filthy people. Online it was the cheapest room she could find that looked halfway decent. That looked like a place she could lay her head.
But in reality, as she paid the lady and the lady gave her the keys, and as she walked back up those rickety stairs and unlocked the door, she realized that those photos online were fake. She knew for certain when she sat on the lumpy bed, and a rat the size of a cat ran out from beneath it as if he was affronted that she had disturbed him, and he darted out in search of a better hiding place.
But Janet Evans had spent many nights in a rat-infected basement at the Henleys. In so-called punishment. It would take more than a big rat to disturb her peace.
But it did give her some pause as she sat on that bed with her suitcase on her lap and looked out through a dusty old window. It did make her wonder if her whole life was going to be one big punishment after another one, just like the Henleys said it would be. As if she deserved it. As if she had spent her entire existence committing unforgiveable crimes when she’d, to her knowledge, had never committed any crimes at all!
But she wasn’t going to dwell on it. She had a job, and she had a plan. She would save, and in a few years, if she played her cards right, she was going to have her own apartment. And it was going to be clean and nice and in a good area. And in a few years after that, she was going to be buying her very own home. That was her plan. And no cat-sized rat, or lumpy old bed would ever be enough to derail her.
She sat her suitcase down and got to cleaning her room as best she could. It was what it was, but she was going to make the best of it. And she unpacked her suitcase. She still had that transistor radio Pa Henley had given her one day, and she turned it on. She didn’t know who was singing, and she barely understood the words because the reception was so poor, but at least it was company for her.
The first time she saw Richard would be four years later, during orientation at the brand-new Shetfield textile mill in Cope, a job she secured after the meat-packing plant she worked for was permanently shut down by government regulators. It was her first day on her new job. And by the end of that day, she would not believe her good fortune.
CHAPTER THREE
FOUR YEARS LATER
An empty garage in a building Richard Shetfield owned, and Myron Colby, his head accountant, was still going down the list. It started with petty thefts, easy to overlook small-dollar amounts, but then the amounts began getting larger and larger. “And on October third,” Myron said, “he took a whopping fifty thousand dollars, Boss.”
Myron was sitting down. So was Pourtnoy, the thief and an accountant in one of Richard’s branch offices. He sat in the middle of the room. And Richard was pacing the floor. A few steps forward and then he’d turn around and pace those same steps again. All in front of Pourtnoy’s chair. All in his fancy suit and his fancy shoes. All with a metal crowbar in his hand. “Fifty thousand dollars,” Richard said as he walked and turned, trying with all he had to contain his rage. “Fifty thousand dollars!”
“On October seventh, just four days later,” Myron added, “he took an additional fifty thousand, Boss.”
Richard shook his head. “Another fifty. A hundred grand in four days. Gotdamn,” Richard said as his face contorted into an angry scowl. And then he stopped pacing, held that crowbar up as if it were a baseball bat, and slammed it into Pourtnoy’s legs.
Pourtnoy cried out in horror, grabbing his legs.
“Keep going,” Richard said to Myron, ignoring Pourtnoy’s cries. “Go down the list. Tell me everything!”
“He took more like petty cash for a few weeks, but almost daily though. And then on November fifteenth,” Myron said, “he took . . .” Myron frowned as he looked at the list closer, to make sure he was seeing it right. “He took . . .” And then he looked at Richard. “On November fifteenth,” Myron said, amazement in his eyes, “he took two million dollars, Boss.”
&n
bsp; Richard already knew the amount. His investigators had already told him the amount. But just hearing it again did something to him. It was jarring to hear. He stopped pacing right in front of Pourtnoy’s chair.
And Pourtnoy panicked. “I was going to give it back, Mr. Shetfield,” he pleaded. “I wouldn’t cheat you, Boss. You know that!”
“Two million dollars,” Richard said as he stared at Pourtnoy with disappointment and disgust in his eyes. “You cooked my books to the tune of two million dollars.”
“I took it,” Pourtnoy admitted. “But I was going to give it right back. I swear to you I was!”
“Was that your money to take?” Richard asked him.
“I was going to give it back, sir,” Pourtnoy pleaded again.
“Was that your money, I said? Or was it my money?”
“It was yours. You know it was yours.”
“But you took it anyway?”
“I was going to give it back.”
“But you took it anyway!” Richard yelled out with such venom that even Myron jumped.
“Yes sir!” Pourtnoy admitted. “I took it anyway.”
Richard settled back down. “That’s some serious disrespect, Pourtnoy. Wouldn’t you say so, Myron? Wouldn’t you call that serious disrespect?”
“I most certainly would, Boss,” said Myron, and then he looked at Pourtnoy too. “Serious disrespect.”
“That’s what I call it,” Richard said, and then he threw that crowbar aside.
Pourtnoy watched as the crowbar clanged against the concrete flooring and then rolled against the wall.
When he looked back at Richard, Richard had picked up a long, rusty nail that laid on the bare floor. And before Pourtnoy could even flinch, Richard took that nail and angrily stabbed it all the way through Pourtnoy’s left eye.
Pourtnoy fell over his chair screaming in agony, and even Myron jumped up from his own chair in disbelief. He looked as Pourtnoy twisted around on that floor in unbearable pain, with blood gushing out, and then he looked at Richard. He’d heard about those Shetfields and what happened to people when they crossed them, but he’d never seen it up close and personal before. It stunned him.
“Call the squad,” Richard said, trying to regain his composure. “Tell them to get over here, clean up the place, and drop him off at the hospital. And I mean drop.”
“Yes, sir,” said Myron.
But then Richard, still angry, ran up to Pourtnoy and leaned down to him, screaming at him. “That’s what happens to motherfuckers who steal from me! That’s what happens! That’s what happens! Do you understand me now?!”
“Yes, sir!” Pourtnoy cried. “Yes, sir, I understand you. Yes, sir!”
“Don’t fuck with me. Don’t you ever fuck with me!”
“No, sir. Never, Mr. Shetfield. No, sir!”
Richard was breathing heavily. He continued to stare at his accountant. He continued to fight against that rage he felt. And then he stood erect again. “You’re going to put every dime of that money back into my account.”
Pourtnoy was nodding. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
“When?”
“Right away, sir. Right away!”
Then Richard calmed back down. “When the hospital releases you,” he said to his accountant, “put the money back into my account. You have forty-eight hours to get it done. Then I expect to see you back on the job Monday morning. Understood?”
Pourtnoy looked his one good eye at his boss, as the blood continued to gush out of his inverted eye. Back on the job? Was this man for real? But he didn’t question it. He nodded his head. “Yes, sir,” he said.
And then Richard began walking toward the exit. Myron, still shocked, looked at Pourtnoy, and then hurried behind Richard. “But Boss,” he said.
Richard turned slightly, but kept on walking. “Yes?”
Myron tried to keep pace with him. “Is it wise to keep him in your employ, sir?”
“Very wise.”
“But he stole from you.”
“He’s going to return the money.”
“Yes, sir, I heard that. But the fact remains, sir,” Myron said when they arrived at the exit door and they both stopped walking, “he stole from you.”
“One thing for certain,” said Richard, “is that he stole from me. Another thing for certain? He’ll be my best accountant ever. You know why?”
“Why, sir?”
“Look at him. That’s why. He’s one fucking eyeball short of a pair! He’ll never steal from me again. I guarantee you that,” Richard said, pulled open the door, and left.
Myron ran his hands through his hair. He knew working for the Shetfields would pose challenges, but he never envisioned this kind of challenge. Because he could only imagine what would happen to him if he crossed them too!
Then he heard Pourtnoy’s screams for help again, remembered what Richard had ordered him to do, and he quickly pulled out his cell phone.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was Janet’s first day at the textile mill, sitting in an auditorium filled with the other new hires, when she needed to tip out to go use the restroom. She’d heard rumors that the big man was onsite, but she had no idea she’d ever run into him. But that was exactly what she had done. She literally ran into him!
She was rounding the corner, heading for the restroom stalls, and he was turning the corner, heading away from the restroom stalls. They collided.
For him, it felt like running into a marshmallow.
For her, it felt like running into a brick wall. She was knocked backwards and fell on her rear.
“Oh, my!” he said, reaching for her, but her rear had hit the floor before their hands connected.
And when their hands did connect, Janet felt an electric current zip through her body as if it was an occupying force. Wondering why, she looked up into his eyes. Who was this?
She had no idea it was Richard Shetfield she was staring at. She had no idea it was the very namesake of the factory she now worked for that had knocked her down.
She had no idea that that one brief encounter would set the standard for her for the rest of her life.
Because she looked into his eyes. His stark, bright green eyes. And saw nothing but kindness there.
“Are you injured?” he asked as he took her, not just by the hand, but by the elbow, too, and helped her to her feet. She was twenty-two years old by then, but always looked small for her age. But one thing was for certain to Janet, just looking at his muscular body: he wasn’t small for his age!
“I’m not injured at all,” she said, standing up. “My pride a little,” she admitted, dusting her skirt off, “but not me.”
He smiled. “Well there’s that,” he said. But when she suddenly looked up at him as she continued to dust herself off, as if she didn’t get what he meant by there’s that, a jolt of something electrifying shot through Richard’s body as if her eyes had pierced him, shocking the shit out of him. What the hell was that, he wondered. And he began staring at her as if he were studying her.
But for Janet, it was nothing more than an awkward moment of silence where she found herself staring at him in such a gawking way that he couldn’t bring himself to just walk on by. Especially since he’d knocked her down.
But that wasn’t why Richard didn’t just leave. He had been jolted into staying. It was as if he was being ordered to pay attention to this one. Don’t just walk away from her. Pay attention to her! But why? To say she wasn’t his type would be an understatement. She had an interesting face. He’d admit she had a somewhat unique face in that it bore a strength and sophistication that a woman that young shouldn’t possess. But what did that have to do with him?
He extended his hand. “I’m Richard Shetfield,” he said. Saying his name alone had always been his trump card whenever he wanted to impress a woman. Everybody in those parts knew that name and reacted accordingly. Not that he wanted to impress this particular woman, he told himself. Why would he?
But Janet
responded differently than all those other women before her had. She seemed more shocked than impressed.
And he was right. Janet was completely shocked. She had just literally run into THE Richard Shetfield, the very namesake of the company she now worked for! And immediately she went into survival mode. Would he fire her for bumping into him like a crazy woman? She’d always heard the Shetfields were just awful people. They owned most of Oklahoma, she’d been told, and never treated their workers right. Was all that talk wrong?
She shook his hand, forgetting to introduce herself.
But he needed to know her name. Maybe he knew her. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued with her. “And you are?” he asked her.
His hair was like a light-brown pile of silk that made his eyes look even starker, Janet thought. And when he ran his hand through that hair, it came back in a pile across his forehead. He really was a very handsome man. He really was so out of her league that she had no business to even pretend to be on the same playing field.
And for some reason, that jolt of reality gave her more confidence. Forget dreaming, she told herself. Get on with keeping your job, and living your own life. A life, she knew even then, that could not possibly involve that impossibly handsome man. “I’m Janet,” she said with a smile, giving more grip to her handshake. “I’m Janet Evans.”
Her sudden aliveness seemed to relax him far more than her gawking did. As if he was accustomed to the gawking of females but didn’t care for that kind of attention.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Evans,” he said, and then leaned against the wall and folded his arms. He couldn’t stop staring at her. He didn’t understand why he was even interested. She had nice hazel eyes and a strong constitution about her, but it wasn’t as if she was some exotic beauty he couldn’t wait to ravage. Far from it. But he also knew what he was experiencing wasn’t so much as physical as it was emotional. It was some kind of an odd, strange, emotional reaction to her. As if he knew her. As if she was somebody near and dear to him when he was reasonably certain he’d never laid eyes on her before.
Plain Jane Evans and the Billionaire Page 2