by K. Marie
The four of us were riding down the highway in my candy-apple red convertible Mercedes; enjoying the wind whipping through our hair and the sun warming our skin. We were heading to nearby Aventura Mall for a spa day and shopping. I was resistant at first; liking shopping malls about as much as I do a root canal, but I looked forward to the spa part at least.
Besides that—the most critical development in this scenario was the fact that my husband had given his almighty approval for me to drive myself today. I suggested, and he approved. That must have been some blowjob, I thought humorously.
I had only driven the car one time since he bought it, right after we married. And since then, it’s been wasting away in the garage. Because really, why did I need a car when I never drove myself anywhere? Nevertheless, I said I wanted a convertible, and I got one, regardless of how absurd it was.
Of course, Garland’s consent didn’t override his golden rule, security at all times. Joe and Stack were damn near on my bumper in the Rover behind us. Still, it felt good to have a little freedom, to be doing something as ordinary as driving down the highway with the girls; while listening to Bruno Mars crooning through the speakers.
“I’ve got plenty of clothes already, half of which I’ve never worn,” I said in response to Marie’s assertion.
“Breaking News! You’re no longer pregnant. Most of those clothes you purchased when you were pregnant, and the rest of them are boring. You need to sex it up for your man, remind him how hot you were before he knocked you up,” Marie argued.
I snorted an outraged laugh. “My clothes are not boring. Need I remind you, I attracted my husband while wearing said offended clothing?”
The last thing I needed to be doing right now is sexing it up. After last night, I needed to keep it fully covered for the next two weeks.
“Yeah, well, that was before you married a man who owns a Gulfstream Jet and a Mega Yacht,” Marie scoffed sarcastically. “You need to dump all of that crap and buy a whole new wardrobe; I’m happy to help you do it too.”
Both Lauren and Anna snickered.
Marie is ridiculous. And apparently, not done.
“I’m telling you, Cam, you need to make it so that every time your husband sees you walking around the house, you feel as if you need one of those bodyguards to protect you from him. You’d better put that porn star body to use before it disappears along with the rest of your baby weight,” she added.
Porn Star body? Baby weight?
We all burst out laughing at her ludicrousness.
“What in the hell is a porn star body, and are you calling me fat?” I asked on a laugh, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
“Hell no, I’m not calling you fat! You’re all tits and ass and tiny little waist, I’d love to trade places with you,” Marie grinned back at me. “But if that requires me getting pregnant, I’ll have to be satisfied with what I’ve got.”
I laughed and shook my head.
I had lost nearly all of my baby weight, save for a few pounds. And though I was back down to my usual size, Marie was right; my clothes were a little tighter in certain areas. But, a porn star body? Is that what my husband saw when looking at me in the shower last night? Did he like me better this way?
When we pulled up to the valet area outside the mall, an enthusiastic looking college-aged guy came running over. He gawked as we got out of the car, eyes bouncing all over the place as if unable to decide which of us warranted more attention. But that got shut down real fast. Joe walked up looking super intimidating and nearly scaring the piss out of him. Joe is a big hulk of a man, tall, broad, and buffed. He brought to mind a mocha-skinned LL Cool J, but with a smaller baldhead. No shade on Cool J, but his head is enormous.
College-boy looked even more uncomfortable and confused when Stack walked up and started barking orders on where to park our cars. I tried not to smile; I felt sorry for the young man. Stack was as intimidating looking as Joe, but more so in demeanor than in size. With that business squared away, we turned to walk towards the main doors of the mall, but I cringed when I noticed that we’d drawn quite a few curious looks.
Great.
With my officious looking man-squad and what probably looked to be a girl-band, they were probably wondering who the hell we were. The last thing I wanted was attention.
“Are you guys seriously going to sit in the spa the entire time? It’ll be torture for you. I think I’ll be okay for a couple of hours of being pampered,” I told both Joe and Stack.
Their job would surely suck today, having to follow four women around a shopping mall.
“We go where you go, Camry, no exception,” said Joe, tone brooking no argument.
But, he surprised me when he added, “Besides, I’m in no hurry to die anytime soon.”
That gave me pause.
I looked over at him, hoping he was kidding. He gave a small, lopsided smile, indicating that he was.
Sheesh, I really needed to chill. It’s just that nowadays, comments like those weren’t at all humorous.
Why hadn’t I done this before now? I wondered almost three hours later, standing to stare at myself in the mirror.
I went all out and opted for the works. Starting with a full body aromatherapy massage, followed by a sea salt body scrub. The mani-pedi came after my facial and eyebrow waxing, and the grand finale was my hair.
My hair had grown quite long during pregnancy and was long overdue for a trim. However, I went all in; I now stood looking at hair that was almost two shades lighter. The sandy color and golden highlights hung in long, loose waves around my shoulders and down my back.
“Wow, your hair looks fabulous,” Lauren said from behind me. “The color is stunning on you—it brings out your golden skin and hazel eyes. You look like a tween-ager,” she beamed like a proud sister.
“Now, that’s a compliment I’ll take,” I beamed right back, eyeing her reflection in the mirror.
After the facial, I opted to go natural. I wanted to let my pores breathe before piling makeup back onto my face. My skin now had a healthy glow to it from all of the spa treatments. I guess I did look a bit fresh-faced and younger.
“Let’s track down Marie and Anna, then we’ll find you some gorgeous clothes to go with your new look,” said Lauren, pulling her iPhone from her purse.
Anna and Marie had finished about an hour ago, and though Lauren had completed her treatments as well, she’d opted to stay with me while I got my hair done. Lauren has been great since arriving; she’d been very supportive and not at all critical. I felt we’d gotten closer since I married Garland and moved to Miami. Perhaps the distance helped.
When we walked from the back and into the small waiting area up front, I smiled in amusement. Joe sat with a foot propped on knee, eyes glued to the screen of his phone—probably watching Netflix; and looking too large for the small-sized chair. Stack stood leaning against the wall perusing an “In Touch” magazine, while the receptionist behind the counter sat with chin propped on hand, staring at him.
Hilarious.
“I’m sorry it took so long, I owe you guys hugely,” I said as we approached.
Joe’s eyes snapped in my direction, and then he did a double take.
I grinned; knowing my dramatic change in appearance had caught him off guard.
“Doesn’t she look fab?” asked Lauren.
I cringed in embarrassment. Totally inappropriate.
“Absolutely,” answered Joe, giving me a small smile.
Stack remained silent, admirable poker-face giving nothing away.
Thank God. I found it awkward as hell to have my security guys commenting on my appearance.
“I know it’s probably gratuitous at this point, but my sister and cousins are hellbent on me shopping. We’ll be done in an hour, I promise,” I said in apology.
* * *
We finally walked out of the mall an hour and a half later with all available hands carrying a shitload of bags. I was now the proud owne
r of lots of crap I didn’t need.
Though, the white Dior dress I currently wore had been a must-have. It was ridiculously expensive, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it in the store. It was a wrap-style dress with short sleeves and hit a couple of inches above the knee. It was simple-chic and flattering. After trying it on, I kept it on.
When we got to the cars, I hugged each of the girl’s goodbye before they got into the car with Stack. I got into the Rover with Joe. I was exhausted and had probably overdone it. Today was the most physical activity I’d had since Roman was born. My boobs were now near to bursting because I’d missed my nursing schedule, and my body felt weak. I seriously needed to get back to doing yoga soon.
Since Garland and I already had plans for tonight, I wouldn’t be seeing the girls again until tomorrow. It would be my birthday then, and there was sure to be a flurry of activity to keep me busy. But, I was happy and thankful to have my family here to share it with me.
“Thank you for today, Joe. I fear I might have bitten off more than I could chew, but it was fun,” I told him, relaxing my head back against the headrest.
It was fun for me, but unquestionably tedious for him and Stack.
“No need to thank me, Camry, I was just doing my job,” he responded.
“I know it’s your job, that doesn’t mean I’m not appreciative of you doing it. If I failed to say it before now, I appreciate you doing it in general; for Garland and for me.”
Joe glanced a look my way before turning his attention back to the road. He didn’t say anything for several long seconds.
“Your husband is a complicated man, Camry, but also a decent one. Ensuring his safety or that of his family is no hardship. No amount of money can buy loyalty from any man, it’s got to be earned, and your husband has earned mine,” Joe said.
I gawked in surprise.
I knew that Joe had worked for Garland many years now; and that the two men were tighter than just boss and employee. But I was curious to learn how that dynamic had evolved. How had Garland earned his loyalty?
“Do you mind elaborating on that?” I asked hopefully.
Joe looked over at me in amusement. “Let’s just say, he once saved my life,” he said in answer.
It was a terrible answer. Now, I was even more curious. However, I decided not to pry any further.
“I can live with that,” I told him.
Joe was different when it was just the two of us. He was in no way chatty, but I could get him to talk and open up a little bit more. Of course, I understood his position dictated he maintained a level of professionalism—especially in front of others. But he and I had a comfortable camaraderie, whether talking or not.
“I did some serious damage with my credit card today, Joe, my husband will be proud of me,” I grinned.
Garland was familiar with my aversion to shopping and thought me a weirdo in that regard. I only went to an actual shopping mall when absolutely necessary, but I couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw all of the crap I’d purchased.
“What husband question’s his wife not using a credit card anyway?” I asked belatedly, stymied. It was typically reversed; the husband complained about the wife using it too much. Maybe Garland’s the weirdo.
“A man who loves his wife more than his money; your husband only wants to see you happy,” answered Joe.
“By having me spend his money?” I quizzed after mulling over his words.
Joe chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “No, by giving you the world, only, you don’t seem to want it.”
“I already have the world, Joe. I’m no bleeding heart; Garland’s money certainly has its uses, but it isn’t what makes me happy.”
“Money alone doesn’t make a man rich, Camry, having someone who loves you more than your money does. I knew the very first day I met you, that you would be a keeper,” said Joe.
Seven
G A R L A N D
“I think it’s time we had a talk, man to man. Since I know you’ve got little patience for bullshit—I’ll get straight to the point,” my father-in-law said.
He had just come into my office, where I’d been looking over some legal documents that got tossed aside yesterday. But, this might be more interesting.
“What do you know about John McKellan?” asked Clay.
“I guess that depends on why you’re asking.”
Definitely more interesting.
Clayton Spencer’s keen eyes studied me quietly, knowing exactly what kind of man his daughter had married. And though we enjoyed a good relationship, my ex-cop father-in-law was no fool.
Neither was I.
“I’m asking because I’m almost certain you did as a husband what I as a father failed to do. A background check on John McKellan. The man had a murky past and a history of stalking. I was a cop for over thirty years and was none the wiser,” he answered, self-recrimination in every word.
“Are you in the habit of doing background checks on the men your daughters date?” I asked pointedly.
“I wasn’t, but it’s a different world today than it used to be. I’m now making it my priority,” responded Clay, piercing me with a meaningful look.
I didn’t care one way or the other; he could only find what I wanted him to. But, that’s beside the point. A man should never rollover without at least some opposition.
“What is it you think I know, that you don’t already?” I questioned.
“I said I wouldn’t bullshit you; I ask that you extend me the same courtesy.”
Fair enough.
After a moment’s deliberation, I rolled back my chair and stood, walking over to the built-in bookcase to the left of my desk. The wall safe lay behind it. After pulling back the faux-wood panel and punching in the code on the electronic keypad, I opened the safe and retrieved the files.
“I’m sure you’ll find this makes for interesting reading,” I told Clay, laying one of the folders on the desk in front of him. “I had an extensive background check run on McKellan, that report includes his sealed juvenile records as well.”
My father-in-law raised both eyebrows at that news. As a former lawman, he was well aware of the red tape required to unseal juvenile records. He knows I didn’t go through those channels.
Clay and I had an unspoken understanding. The first time we met was right after I asked Camry to marry me—and on that occasion, he’d invited me into his office for a private little chat. Staring at me all steely-eyed and Clint Eastwood-like across his cluttered desk, Clay informed me that if I broke his daughter’s heart, or if one strand of her hair came to harm in my care, he would hunt me down and kill me.
I believed him. I also respected his protectiveness as a father.
If Autumn brought a man home after two months of dating him and announced that they were getting married, it was a strong possibility he might suddenly disappear.
“Christ…” Clay muttered after a minute of flipping through the pages. “Is Camry aware of this?” he asked, finally looking up at me.
“Not all of it,” I answered.
He gave me a thoughtful look. “Do you intend to tell her?” he quizzed.
“If she asks, I’ll tell her whatever she wants to know.”
After the other night in the shower, I didn’t think she’d be asking.
After a beat of silence, Clay’s eyes dropped back down to the file. “From all outside appearances, John didn’t appear to be anything other than what he presented himself to be. It was my opinion that he might have crowded Camry at times, but she never complained, so I didn’t see it as an issue,” he said.
I remained silent, no response necessary.
Clay was no doubt scolding himself as much as I had after reading the report. Except, for him, it had to be worse. He’d known McKellan almost two years and had been around him; had likely invited him into his home on occasion.
“I worked as a policeman over thirty years—six of those spent as Lieutenant of criminal
investigations, ten as Captain. I’ve seen it all, not much surprises me anymore—this shouldn’t surprise me,” he said, gaze focused back on me again.
He’s right; it shouldn’t. However, it’s sometimes hard to see things clearly when they’re too close to you. It would be like putting a magnifying glass too close to a word in a book; it tends to become blurry.
My father-in-law’s shrewd eyes peered into mine. “As you are aware, John was here in Miami just days before he disappeared. Now, I don’t believe in coincidences like that; I also don’t believe a leopard changes its spots. If John was here in Miami, it more than likely had something to do with Camry. So, in my estimation, his untimely disappearance after that also had something to do with Camry.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“I’m certain that’s true. However—let’s say hypothetically, someone was to take justice into their own hands for whatever reason. I suppose said reason would have sufficient justification; and would in no way implicate that person nor that of his family,” my father-in-law surmised, meaning clear.
He wasn’t questioning whether I had anything to do with it—of that he had no doubt. He was asking whether his daughter was at risk.
“Of course—and this is purely hypothetical; if a person ever perceived there to be a clear and present threat to his family; I’m certain he would eliminate it without question. Reason justified. There would never be any exposure to his family whatsoever.”
It was like playing a careful game of draughts. Or in this case, American checkers.
The key was to advance steadily forward—in a diagonal move, sidestepping exposure and capture at every turn. I don’t apologize for who I am or how I choose to protect what’s mine. But only a fool would implicate himself in a crime. If you suspect it, prove it, that’s how the game is played.
Clay let out a resigned sigh. “In no way do I condone vigilante justice, it goes against everything I’ve stood for the past thirty-plus years. However, I’d like to think that in some cases—though unlawful, it’s merited. I hope this is one of those cases,” he mumbled, scrubbing a weary hand down his face.