The Client

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "This neighborhood is silently judging Wanda. She can feel it," Wasp declared a couple hours later after we finally turned into my grandmother's gated community, getting a raised brow from the guard.

  "They probably just think you're casing the joint. Driving four miles an hour and everything," I teased, getting a smirk from her. "This is the one," I told her, pointing to the maple tree-lined property.

  The house was set far back from the street as they all were, a towering French country style home with pristine white bound and batten siding and black shutters. My grandmother was particularly fond of her vibrant hydrangea bushes in white, pink, purple, and light green. Apparently, their whole marriage, my grandfather had claimed snowball bushes were 'lowbrow,' and he refused to have any on a single one of the family properties.

  I admired the ultimate fuck-you move of her ordering her bushes the week after his burial.

  They were thriving now, lush, in full bloom, bees buzzing around them happily.

  She would have fresh cuts of them scattered around the house, in practically every single room, sitting on tabletops or windowsills.

  "You know, for being so massive, it is still somehow homey-looking," Wasp decided, slipping into her heels. She'd already ducked into the bathroom to slip into a simple white sundress with oversize black buttons down the front. It was demure by any standards—especially hers—but, to me, it was maybe the sexiest thing I'd ever seen her in. "You're sure I shouldn't pull my hair up?" she asked, tossing some of the wild mass over her shoulder. "I know I have decidedly unrefined hair."

  "I like it that way," I assured her, taking her hand, pulling her onto her feet, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You look beautiful. And you have no reason to be nervous."

  "No? The matriarch of one of our country's old money families is going to be scrutinizing every inch of me from the childbearing potential of my hips to my tacky nail polish color. I think I have a reason to worry."

  She'd been fretting about the nail polish in a bright red color that she'd wanted to pull over and wipe off.

  "My grandmother is partial to red nail polish. It was another thing my grandfather hated. Red nail polish, apparently, was for street walkers."

  "Well, I have a very attractive street-walker position waiting for me should I need it," she teased, taking a deep breath, then taking my hand as I led her up the paver driveway. "Also, can I repeat that I love your grandmother's style. Doing absolutely everything her overbearing husband told her not to while they were married. She's a badass."

  "That she is," I agreed. I'd never been able to see it while my grandfather was around, when she was under his thumb, when she bowed to his wishes. But when he was gone, she really became her own woman. And she was a fearsome woman to behold.

  "Mary-Ellen," I greeted the middle-aged woman who had been my grandmother's housekeeper for over a decade. "I like the red," I told her, meaning her hair. It had been dishwater brown since I'd met her. The red made her blue-green eyes pop.

  "I never thought I'd see the day when you brought a girl home," Mary-Ellen said, shaking her head, giving Wasp a warm smile. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked as we moved into the entryway.

  "An entire bottle of vodka with some crushed Ambien around the rim?" Wasp quipped, making Mary-Ellen chuckle.

  "Don't worry, honey. Charlotte is a fair woman. She is waiting for you in the solarium."

  With that, she was gone, leaving me to lead Wasp through the house.

  "Hey, you can't bring me to a certifiable mansion and not let me gawk a little," she demanded when my hand pressed into her lower back, pulling her along with me.

  What can I say?

  I was eager to get the introductions started.

  My grandmother had been the only family member I ever felt like gave a damn about me. Even after she freed me from Avon Mills, she'd never batted an eye to my increasingly outlandish antics. She never faulted me for going wild after being kept so contained my whole life. I guess because she understood that feeling all too well.

  I had plenty of extended family, but my grandmother was my only close relation. I found I was anxious to let her meet the woman I was starting to see a future with. Not to get her approval, per se, but to share something exciting with her, something and someone who was becoming important to me.

  "I promise you can gawk all you want later. But let's go say hello first," I told Wasp, giving her ass a tiny pat before putting my hand back to the small of her back as we stepped into the opening of the conservatory, a sprawling space of gleaming windows, a myriad of houseplants, and all white furniture.

  My grandmother was seated on one of the chairs, a teacup perched on her knee.

  A woman of eighty-four, she could have easily passed for twenty years younger. She'd always been tall and lean, dressing in casual cream slacks and solid silk blouses. Today, she had on a dove gray which went well with her perfectly style shoulder-length gray hair. Her face was etched with some years, but she'd aged gracefully, and there was a keen, intelligent look to her bright green eyes.

  "Fenway, handsome as ever," she greeted, arm out, ushering me forward to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. "And the woman who could finally slow you down," she added, smiling at Wasp. "Bella, it was, correct?"

  "Yes," Wasp agreed, shifting her feet. "It's nice to meet you. Fenway has told me a bunch of amazing stories about you. I have to say, I am a big fan of your spite-garden," she said, smiling.

  The big smile that spread across my grandmother's face was all I needed to see to know she already approved.

  "Spite-garden, I like that. Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?" she asked as we sat down on the couch. "Mine has a little brandy in it," she added in a low voice. "But don't tell Mary-Ellen, she doesn't approve. It can be our little secr—and that is why I do not approve of day drinking, children," she cut off abruptly, waggling her finger at us, her eyes dancing, making Wasp and I turn to see Mary-Ellen making her way in with a tea set.

  Wasp had to press her lips together to keep from laughing as Mary-Ellen turned and my grandmother produced a flask, slipping a little more into her cup, then quickly tucking it away.

  "I made some of those bergamot madeleines you are so fond of, if you'd like some," Mary-Ellen offered. Never having had a mother to do the mothering type things like cooking and baking for me, I appreciated that Mary-Ellen had always treated me like one of her many children when I was around.

  "I hope you made more than last time," I told her, shaking my head.

  "Yes, how could I have been so stingy? Only making you three dozen," Mary-Ellen shot back, smiling. "I will bring some in."

  With her departure, Wasp settled her teacup and saucer on her thigh, looking as prim as a lady at a garden party.

  "So," my grandmother started, making our gazes shoot in her direction. "Wasp," she said, making Wasp stiffen, and I could practically hear her thoughts. We didn't tell her my nickname. "Tell me, when, exactly, did it stop being a job, and turn into something real?"

  Wasp's eyes were round, her lips parted.

  "Grandmother, what are—" I started, getting cut off.

  "The plan truly was just to teach him a lesson, my dear. But I must admit, I'm not all-together put off by this outcome either."

  And right then, a moment later than Wasp realized what was going on, I did as well.

  My grandmother.

  That had been Wasp's client.

  That was who bankrolled her trip to Paris, who had sicced her on unsuspecting me.

  "Oh my God," Wasp hissed, putting her teacup back down on the tray. "Oh my God," she said again.

  "You hired Wasp?" I asked, recovering before Wasp, who was staring at my grandmother like she'd grown another head and it was cursing her out in a different language.

  "I did, my dear, I did. I'm afraid I have been too lenient with you," she said, looking at me. "Yes, you were practically a grown man when I got you out of that hellhole, but it was my place to impart some
wisdom in you. While I may have accomplished in some ways, I failed you terribly in others. Namely, when it came to relationships. I stood by and let you believe the disposable way you treated women was acceptable. It is not. It never was. When this lovely young woman's name was tossed around at a charity event I had gone to earlier this year, it got me thinking. I had an opportunity to teach you a lesson."

  "You wanted her to break my heart," I clarified. Sure, my grandmother could be old school at times, believing a swift kick in the ass did more in a moment than thinking and talking could in a decade, but she'd never been someone who went behind your back to accomplish something. She'd always been more in-your-face about things she was passionate about.

  "I did," she agreed, nodding. "I could talk until I was blue in the face about how to treat women, about how to approach relationships. But I know you, my dear, it would have gone in one ear and out the other. I figured I had to get inventive with my methods. And, luckily, this young lady provides a much needed service to society."

  "Provided," I clarified. "She's retiring."

  "I have an offer to be a high-priced call-girl," Wasp volunteered, getting a smile from my grandmother.

  "Yes, well, it is always smart to have a back-up career, should you need it. I never imagined this pairing, but the more time I have to think about it, the more I like it," she concluded, looking between us. "I have a feeling this woman isn't going to let you get away with anything."

  "She thinks I am careless with my money."

  "A toddler would know you are careless with your money," Wasp said, rolling her eyes. "He rented out an entire park in Bali when we were there."

  "As ostentatious as that might have been, I have to admit, I am not disappointed that you seem prone to grand romantic gestures, my dear," she said, giving me a soft smile. "Every woman deserves a man who will spoil her."

  "Speaking of men who could spoil you," Wasp piped in, jerking her chin out the back window. "Please tell me you're banging the pool boy."

  "Martin? He is hardly thirty-five years old. And I'm—"

  "Older, not a monk," Wasp cut her off. "I bet he has a lady of the manor fantasy."

  "Wasp, could you not try to hook my grandmother up? At least in front of me," I conceded when she raised a brow at me.

  The rest of the afternoon went much the same way, the two of them bonding, Wasp pulling out a young, girlish side of my grandmother I had never known before, my grandmother slowly introducing Wasp to the very different kind of lifestyle we lived.

  Far too soon, it was time for us to get back on the road again, my grandmother following us out onto the front stoop.

  "It was so nice meeting you. You have my number. I am going to need you to call me as soon as you climb out of bed with your pool boy," Wasp demanded, giving my grandmother a smile before making her way to Wanda, giving me and my grandmother a moment alone.

  "I like her for you."

  "You should. You chose her," I reminded her, smiling.

  "I have always had impeccable taste," she said, one of her hands going over the other, sliding off the ring on her left ring finger. "It's too soon, I know," she said, holding the ring up to inspect it. "But I want you to have it for when the moment is right."

  "I can't take your engagement ring, Grandmother."

  "You can. You will. Listen, this was never a symbol of great love for me. I think you were always mature enough to understand that. To know mine had never been a great love story. So I want this ring to have a second chance to be a part of a real love story, to be able to represent something that beautiful," she told me, reaching to slip it into my breast pocket. "Treat that woman how she deserves to be treated," she told me, pressing her hand to my cheek.

  "I will," I told her, giving her a firm nod.

  "You better."

  I gave her a kiss on the cheek and made my way back to Wanda, finding Wasp already slipping out of her heels, flexing her feet.

  "These shoes might have to retire. I'm pretty sure the only less strenuous job for heels other than sit-down-heels is casket-heels. And I'm not ready to go just yet," she told me, undoing her top dress button, not used to being so covered up. "I love her," she added, beaming at me. "I've never had a grandma. So even if things don't work out with us, I'm claiming her."

  "I think I will be willing to share her. Even if she did betray me," I said, dropping down on the couch that acted as her passenger seat, making me ride sideways. But that was alright because I got to watch her the whole way without looking like a creep.

  "Did she betray you, or did she give you the best thing that has ever happened to you?" she declared, pressing a hand drastically to her chest.

  "I guess you have a point there," I agreed, feeling the weight of the ring in my pocket, the responsibility attached to it. Suddenly, there was no doubt in my mind that I would use it, that I would give it to her, that we would give it the legacy it deserved.

  This was the woman for me.

  With her crazy hair and chipped nails and her absolute inability to be a gracious winner in card games.

  She was the one.

  I hadn't even been looking for her, but I'd known it the moment I saw her. And each day after had only reinforced that initial thought that there was something special about her.

  I couldn't have known at the time, of course, that she would come to mean as much as she had.

  But there was no denying it.

  This was the woman who was going to wear my ring, carry my name, tour the world with me, build a future with me.

  "Okay. Where are we headed?" she asked, grabbing the wheel. "I am ready for a new adventure."

  "We can have all the adventures you want, darling, but not in this thing."

  "How dare you insult Wanda!" Wasp hissed, giving me small eyes.

  "Actually, Wanda is fine. The problem, I'm afraid, is you. I fear we will both grow old, die, and turn to ash before we get to our next destination."

  "I don't drive that slowly," she insisted.

  "Do you want me to call Raven for confirmation? I asked, reaching for my phone.

  "No," she grumbled, knowing I was right. "Okay. Fine. I will drive her back to Navesink Bank. I can probably convince my brother to store her for a while. But we are going to take her out again."

  Not if I could help it.

  We were going private or first class all the way.

  I would happily use naked persuasion should I need to.

  It would be a real hardship, let me tell you.

  But I would do it for my woman.

  EPILOGUE

  Fenway - 2 weeks

  "In what way is this the 'most reasonable' of all the houses your real estate agent sent you?" Wasp asked, holding up a binder with a picture of the estate on the front.

  "Possibly because one of the first ones she showed me cost eighteen million."

  "You can't be serious."

  "There is a lot of money in this town," I told her, shrugging. "Rock stars live along the Navesink River."

  "I'd like to go on the record and say that it is absurd for them to have eighteen-million-dollar homes as well."

  "This one isn't eighteen-million, darling," I reminded her, always getting a kick out of how shocked and outraged she was over the cost of some things I had long since stopped noticing.

  "Oh, right. Only eight million. Only," she scoffed. "It has eight bedrooms. Even if you slept in a different one every night of the week, you'd still have one to spare."

  "We," I corrected.

  "What?"

  "If we slept in a different room every night of the week, we would still have one to spare," I told her, watching the way her smile went almost shy.

  Yes, shy.

  And, yes, Wasp.

  They were two words that shouldn't have gone together, but any time I mentioned a future that involved the two of us in it, she got that same smile. Sometimes, her cheeks even went the smallest bit pink.

  "Besides," I went on. "We will need guest ro
oms."

  "Not if we are going to be in Navesink Bank. All our friends have homes here already."

  "Alvy would like their own room."

  "Okay. That is one extra bedroom. So three would be the bare minimum. Master, Alvy, and guest. Plenty of space. Oh, my God. Is this a spa? A spa? In a private home?" she asked, flipping through the laminated pages.

  "You like a good soaking tub."

  "There is a massage table. And a water feature. And a meditation room."

  "If it makes you feel better, we can use the spare bedrooms as space for foreign exchange students or something like that."

  "Oh, please. Like I would ever expose a poor, innocent child to your debauchery," she teased, smiling.

  "What about kids?" I asked, worrying it was too soon to ask, but also seemingly unable to stop the question while we were sort-of on the topic.

  "What about them?"

  "Do you want any?" I asked. "You seem fond of all your nieces and nephew."

  "Well, a large part of my enjoyment of them is teaching them dirty innuendos and buying them obnoxious toys. You know, the things that I would hate if I had to deal with said child on a daily basis. Honestly, I haven't really given it any thought. It was never part of my and Raven's plan to grow into stylish old spinsters in New York City and have boy toy boyfriends half our age catering to our every need. But I guess, if the impossible happened and I got pregnant, I would, I don't know, see it as a different kind of adventure. Can you imagine how badass a kid I would raise?" she asked.

  I could imagine. Which was why I was asking. Like her, I had never really given it thought either. I guess, in an abstract way, I saw myself in a family way some day. A steadier lifestyle, a constant woman, a kid to be happy to see me when I came home. It was a nice idea. But it had always been a far-off thing.

  Now, though, it didn't seem quite so off in the distance.

  "Okay. This binder needs to go back to the agent," Wasp decided, closing it with a snap. "There was a gift wrapping room."