by Devon Ashley
“Yeah, but it turns out Brad isn’t the last of his family line. There’s someone named Jake that’s still alive and he got everything.”
My mom paused to face me, surprise painting her face. “Everything? Really? That’s unusual. Your father and I have everything split down the middle for you and Jenny.”
I handed her the stack of dishes from the dining table. “Yeah, well, Brad and his grandmother didn’t really get along. Can’t say I’m surprised she gave him the shaft.”
“Well, some families are like that. I’m just glad ours isn’t.” As I pulled some tupperware from the bottom drawer, she added, “So did you recognize anyone in Berryville?”
I saw quite a few as I drove around town, but none of who I was all that eager to stop and talk to. “I ran into Matt. He’s still there, working at the factory.”
“Wasn’t he on your team in high school?”
“Yep. Just baseball though. He didn’t play the others.”
“Anyone else?” she probed.
I don’t know why I mentioned it. Maybe I just needed to talk about her, let it vent a little. “I saw Mel.”
My mom silently gasped with excitement. She dropped whatever she was cleaning in the sink and shut the water off, turning to face me. Not even caring that she dripped water on the rug beneath her, she eagerly replied, “Melanie? Such a nice girl. I always liked her. How is she?”
Cheater. Liar. Manipulator.
I couldn’t take her excitement for a girl who didn’t deserve the positive attention, so I directed all my focus to putting the leftovers into their containers. “She’s good I guess. Never left for college though.”
“Oh, no! Why not?”
Don’t know. Don’t care.
“I don’t know. She manages a bar now.”
“Well, I guess that’s probably the best she’s going to get there. But now that she has managing experience, she could find a job rather easily anywhere she goes.”
“I guess, but I don’t think she has any desire to go or she probably would’ve done it already.”
“Brad was a fool to let that one get away. So pretty and sweet.”
I choked down the witty remark I had lined up for that, but I let my eyes roll since my back was turned. I knew the things Mel had done, and I could get my mom to dislike her within a few sentences, but I wasn’t going to be one of those people who spread dirty deeds just for gossip’s sake.
I carried the leftovers to the refrigerator and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going to go up. I’m a little wiped.”
“Alright, honey. Night.”
“Night,” I replied, never more ready to bail.
As I lay in bed, I couldn’t keep my thoughts off Mel, constantly scanning through the memories, trying to decide when it all went wrong. On the surface, she seemed the perfect girlfriend. The way Brad always talked about her, he sure as hell didn’t see her betrayal coming. Guess I was lucky it wasn’t me, because through the years, she was the only girl I ever wanted to take seriously. Even though she wasn’t mine.
God, I wanted her to be though. All that time stuck watching Brad get to be on the receiving end of her kisses, the playful smiles and suggestive commentary only said when she thought no one was close enough to hear. Of course, I was always near, my ears solely focused on her voice no matter my efforts to thwart them, endlessly punishing me for not asking her out before it was too late.
I wanted to be mad at her, wanted to hate her. She deserved it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quit thinking of her, keep from smiling every time I pictured her on Lake Palestine, floating lazily in circles on an inner tube, wearing one of those strapless bikinis, her cheeks flushed and spotted with summer freckles that made her scrunch her nose with annoyance.
Seeing her brought it all back, made that yearning feeling I used to have for her resurface. Something was seriously wrong with me. I wanted none of the girls I could easily have, but that one girl, the one who I knew wasn’t trustworthy, who would probably rip my heart to shreds the way she did with Brad’s? Hell, last night I was two seconds away from bending her over one of those barstools, and it wasn’t to give her the spanking she surely deserved. To this day I still wanted her to want me.
I groaned and shoved the pillow over my face. I had inadvertently put the image of her bending over in my head, my hand trailing up the outside of her bare thigh, slowly lifting her skirt to get a peek of the curve hidden beneath, making my damn dick twitch to life. I pounded and pounded my head through the pillow, but suffocating myself with darkness only made it that much easier for my imagination to sock it to me.
I hadn’t experienced a weekend like that in a long time. Utterly and miserably endless. And it didn’t help that my damn mind kept shuffling through all these memories of Mel. There was nothing to do here but watch TV, talk with my parents or go to the gym. Since I only had a few months left of my senior year when my family moved here to Dallas, I really didn’t have time to form lasting friendships, so I didn’t have anyone to hang out with. All my college friends were back in Austin, or currently picking up new jobs across the country. I considered hitting up a bar each night just to get out of the house, but I knew I’d probably end up leaving with some random girl to just to fill the void. I’d admit my relationships had been a bit sketchy at times, but even I wasn’t a huge fan of screwing some girl I’d never see again. Call me what you want, but I preferred the girl to be a repeat customer – even when the strings weren’t attached.
I just wanted to get back to Berryville, hit the records room at the nearest hospital, find what I need, try to get paid for my time, and get Mel Peterson the hell out of my head so I could get on with life again. And if I didn’t get something out of this fiasco, I was probably going to have to find a job for the next few months to get the bank account padded a bit more.
Oddly enough, even after all the sleeping I did over the weekend, I woke up late Monday morning, so I didn’t roll into Berryville until midday. The nearest hospital was in the next town over and I prayed it would be the only one I’d have to search. When I got there, a silver-haired woman sat behind a steel rectangular desk, her head behind an enormous outdated computer that took up more than a third of her workspace. Great. Another town that was way behind in technology. God help me if I actually had to thumb through paper copies in a musty, old basement.
She had yet to notice me, but the brass nameplate on her desk told me she was Mrs. Florence DeAbo. “Mrs. DeAbo?” I asked. A pouf of thinning hair dipped into view, followed by a large pair of eyes behind a set of reading glasses that were secured around her neck with a chain. “Yes? May I help you?”
“I certainly hope so, ma’am. My grandmother died recently – God bless her soul – and she’s left some money to a family member none of us seem to know.” Florence’s eyes narrowed at me and I began to wonder if I had a tell. Hopefully not – it would screw me in the courtroom for years to come if I did. I hated lying to her, but I knew enough about the law to know the only chance I had in seeing this record would be if I were a family member. “We’ve searched genealogy and ancestry sites and have come up empty. In all honesty, I think this is a last ditch effort, but I’d feel guilty if I didn’t at least attempt to search the birth records. I’d hate for this person to lose their inheritance since my grandmother seemed to think they were important enough to include. Anyways, she and most of her family members were all raised in Berryville and most likely would’ve been born in this hospital.”
“Birth records can be accessed at the county clerk’s office. You’ll have to head over to Athens to try to locate that particular one.”
“Aren’t birth records made public as part of the Freedom of Information Act?” I asked, afraid she might say something like that.
“If the record is more than seventy-five years old, then yes.”
“Well, that’s entirely possible since she was eighty-two when she died. Look, is it possible to just search the records here? I’m not
looking for an official birth certificate or needing any of his private information. I’d just like to know if this man actually exists.”
Florence narrowed her eyes at me again and stared me down. I swear she could give a loan shark something to be nervous about. After a long moment, she sighed and turned to her computer, fiddling on the keypad before asking, “Name?”
I breathed a sense of relief, and calmly answered, “Jake Montgomery.”
As she continued to tap away on her computer, she told me, “I should warn you we’ve only got the records for about the past fifty years computerized. If this relative is as old as your grandmother, odds are he won’t be in my system.”
Fucking fantastic. Guess that was her way of saying I’ll go ahead and search for you because I know I won’t find anything to show.
After a few more clicks, her eyes began to squint even more, which I didn’t think was physically possible. “What?” I asked with hesitation.
She sucked in a silent breath through her mouth, her head bobbing back and forth slightly. Then she returned to her original position, staring down something confusing on her screen. “Well. I have one birth record coming up showing a Jake Montgomery. But it’s only a few years old.”
Now I was the one confused. Jake Montgomery wasn’t some middle-age guy or a brother of hers we never heard about? “Who’s the father?” I dared to ask, because deep down, I feared there was only one possible answer.
“There isn’t one listed. Just a mother.”
I don’t know how I kept my eyes from widening and my mouth from hitting the floor, but I appeared as cool as James Dean when Florence turned her attention back to me. Because inside, my heart just slammed on the brakes harder than a fat kid for the ice cream truck.
Of course there wouldn’t be a father’s name because Brad wasn’t around to sign anything that would acknowledge the boy as his. But the kid had to be his, right? I mean, what were the odds otherwise?
“And the mother’s name?” I inquired with a firm voice, my chest tightening all over again with anticipation.
“I’m sorry, I’ve told you too much already. Legally, only those whose names are on the birth certificate can request a copy of the record.”
Which basically meant I was screwed.
I sat in the car for several minutes, literally stunned. What the hell? Was Brad a dad? I wished to hell and back again that the woman would’ve given me a name since she wouldn’t pinpoint the year the kid was born. I mean, I hated to say it, but I knew for a fact that Mel was on the pill back then because Brad went on and on about it, trying to rub it in that he didn’t have to slip on a rubber with her. Did he screw around too? Possibly knock someone up?
I rolled my eyes and let my head fall back on the headrest. Hell, no. What the heck was I even thinking? Brad was all into Mel. No way in hell he cheated.
Unless…
Unless he did it after the break-up to get back at her. That was definitely something Brad would stoop to in the heat of the moment. Dumbass probably didn’t even have a condom because he never used them.
I roared out a long groan. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I anger dialed Brad, already yelling at him before he could even finish saying hello. “Who the hell did you fuck in this town besides Mel?”
“What?” he asked slowly, extending the word for at least three seconds. Great. Surprise, surprise, Brad was already lit – as if he ever came down these days. The guy probably even brushed his teeth with beer so as not to dilute what was already in his system.
“Listen. To. Me. Who did you fuck in Berryville before you left town?”
I could tell he was totally confused, letting out a series of one-syllable sounds that made absolutely no sense. “Dude, I mean…I didn’t. Huh?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. If only he were here so I could smack the shit back into him. “There’s a birth certificate here with a kid named Jake Montgomery who was born several years ago.”
“Um…okay. So?”
So? Jesus, this guy was fucking clueless. Did I really have to spell it out for him? “Brad, do you not remember you were the only male Montgomery left in this town? There’s a huge probability that this is the kid who got your life insurance policy, and since your grandmother left him the money, she probably thought this Jake kid was your son.”
“What?” he yelled. Even over the phone I could hear the spittle fly. Once he told me in so many ways that he couldn’t possibly be anyone’s father, I told him to just relax and we’d get it figured out. It could be this woman was just lying about it being Brad’s. In which case, a DNA test would disprove it and we might have grounds to challenge the policy or charge her with fraud. It was just going to take some effort to sort it all out.
After a moment of silence, he asked, “S’what now?”
“Well, now I’ve got to find out who the mother is, and I’ve got a few ideas how to go about it. Just hang tight and do…whatever it is you do.”
“Yeah, all right. Thanks.” I was just shy of hanging up on him when he quietly added, “Shane?”
“Yeah?” I replied.
He was quiet for a moment, and the stillness actually concerned me. “Brad?”
I heard him sigh over the phone. “I can’t have kids man. Never could.”
“What?” I asked, my voice filled with equal parts sorrow and shock.
“I just thought you should know that. Whoever’s claiming this kid’s mine is a liar.”
After he said that, there was a beep and the line went dead. I just sat there with the phone still stuck to my ear. A wave of sadness numbed me to the core. He couldn’t have kids ever? I couldn’t imagine dealing with that. I mean, I didn’t want them right now or anything, but I wanted them someday. And to know that I never could? I think that would kill me a little bit.
More determined than ever to help Brad rectify this mess, I made a call to Mr. St. Claire. He was already out for lunch, so I drove to his office and waited in my car for him to come back.
Couldn’t have kids. God, I felt guilty. Why didn’t I know that? I should’ve known that. I was his best friend but I hadn’t been that good to him since I moved away. Sure, we talked on the phone occasionally, but I only saw him once that first year of college when he came to Austin to check out the scene. I had hoped it would ignite his desire to consider college again, but he never did end up going anywhere. He just drifted through life doing…hell if I knew. Probably just lived off the trust he received when he turned eighteen. I figured he must’ve been close to bleeding it dry, and if he was, he was going to have to figure out something to do fast. Even if we managed to get him something out of this life insurance policy, it wasn’t going to last that long.
I wished I had kept better track of him. He tried rehab twice and it never stuck. Maybe I should’ve had him stay with me afterwards to give it a better chance of sticking. Maybe I should’ve gone down to Houston every once and a while to check up on him. Hell, I was busy and had a new line of friends I enjoyed hanging out with, but I could’ve spared some time for him. I should’ve spared some time for him.
But maybe I could make up for it now. Really help him get on his feet and stay there this time.
Mr. St. Claire parked beside me a little after twelve-thirty. I jumped out of the truck and awaited him to do the same from his black Seville.
“Mr. Michaels. Back so soon.” It wasn’t so much a question as an observation that seemed to annoy him a little. Too bad, because I had a question in need of an answer.
“Mr. St. Claire,” I replied as kindly as I could. “I know Jake Montgomery is a young child. I need to know who his mother is.”
“Sorry,” he replied, stepping past me on the sidewalk, but I followed right behind. “Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn’t. Beneficiaries aren’t public information. The only reason I even knew Jake was the recipient of Joyce’s policy was because she mentioned it to me while we were handling another legal matter. I don’t know who his mother is, an
d I can guarantee you that the insurance company will never tell you without a warrant. And unfortunately for you, you have no grounds to ask for one.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a full afternoon I need to prepare for.”
He slipped past the exterior door to his attorney’s office and disappeared.
“Fuck,” I muttered. I was really hoping he knew and would be willing to tell, but it was alright. I still had another idea of how to find out. I climbed back into my truck and looked up the contact for Kyle Richardson. We met through a mutual friend at UT and became pretty good friends ourselves. He was year behind me, getting his degree in business, so he could take over his father’s private investigation business one day. I dialed him up and waited for him to answer.
On the fourth ring, Kyle asked, “Dude, what’s going on? Are you in town?”
“No man, I wish. None of my friends are in Dallas so it’s pretty boring. School going alright?”
“Ppfftt,” he puffed. “Same ol’, same ol’. Last semester though. I’ll be glad when it’s done.”
“I hear that,” I replied.
“So if you’re not in town, do you need something or what?”
“As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could do a little investigating for me.” Thank God his family lived in Austin and he could just head over to the PI office during his free time. “I need to get a hold of a birth certificate from Henderson County. There was a kid named Jake Montgomery born several years ago and I need to find out who the mother is. Is that something you can help me with?”
“Mmm-maybe. Do you know the date?”
“No, unfortunately. Just the hospital he was born at.”
“Well, I’ve never searched for a birth record myself, but I know that every county sends them here to Austin. It’s likely my dad might have a contact who can sneak a peek and let us know.”
A released a sigh of relief. I was hoping he’d say that. “Thanks, man.”