CON MAN

by T. Torrest

  “Well, she splits her time between here and California, but if she’s in town, it’s no secret where she lives. Everyone knows that house.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Won’t be hard to find. Just go straight up North Road and ask for Wilmington at the gate house. If security lets you through, they’ll direct you from there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  After the third degree from the gatekeeper, I finally convinced him to simply call the Wilmingtons’ house and tell them a friend of Layla’s mother was here for a visit. Her curiosity must have been piqued, because it was only a brief conversation before the gatekeeper was hanging up and waving me in.

  The directions he gave sent me up a long, winding street. I could only catch glimpses of the massive homes between the trees, but thankfully, the house numbers were all printed on small metal placards staked at the end of every driveway.

  At the top of the hill, I came to a black, iron gate which opened before I could even hit the button on the intercom. Aside from the security fencing, the Wilmingtons must have had security cameras, too.

  I navigated up the steep, twisting drive until a large, stone house came into view. I parked near the garage and made my way up the front walk.

  An attractive, dark-haired woman was standing at the front door. She was smiling pleasantly enough, but her crossed arms showed that she was warily regarding this perfect stranger who had appeared out of the blue.

  “Layla Wilmington?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Lucas Taggart.” When she showed no spark of recognition, I clarified, “Frederick Taggart’s son. I think you knew him as Rick.”

  Her eyes immediately tightened at the mention of my father’s name. “I didn’t know him at all. My mother did. And I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

  Her head cocked to the side, eyeing me curiously. There I was on her doorstep, Frederick Taggart’s kid, about the right age to be her mother’s son, too…

  Her mouth gaped open as she asked, “Does that mean… Are you… Are you and I…?”

  “No, no. Kate wasn’t my mother.” I couldn’t blame her for putting the puzzle pieces together incorrectly. God, I was handling this thing all wrong. “In fact, Frederick’s not my father either, I guess. My real parents were killed in a car accident back in two-thousand.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” She bit her lip as she crossed her arms over her chest again, warding off a chill. “Um, Lucas, was it? I don’t mean to be rude, but I guess I don’t understand why you’re here?”

  “It’s Luke, actually. And I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk?” She opened her mouth, probably to offer me a polite excuse which would allow her to dismiss me the hell off of her front porch. I spoke up before she could. “I don’t really know why I’m here either. I just… I guess I wanted to apologize. And I thought that maybe you’d know someone who knew my parents?”

  Her brows furrowed, so I added, “They—we—lived in this town right up until the accident. When I was twelve.”

  “Wouldn’t you know more than…”

  “I have no memory of the first twelve years of my life.” Her mouth dipped open in surprise as I met her eyes and added, “The accident did a number on my brain. Wiped out everything prior to that night.”

  She blinked a few times, trying to register my words. “Wait. This is too much information. Why don’t you come inside. I’ll put some coffee on.”

  She opened the door fully to escort me inside, and I was immediately greeted with an overzealous Golden Retriever, bouncing around at my feet, just itching to leap into my arms.

  “Hooza! Don’t even think about it!” she admonished.

  The dog crouched low to the floor—butt waggling, paws tapping—a bundle of kinetic energy waiting to be unleashed, but he obeyed his orders. His tail thumped in double-time as I bent down to pet him and offer a few encouraging words about what a good boy he was. I ruffled his ears until he calmed down some and Layla was able to send him on his way.

  “Sorry about him. He just loves to meet new people,” she snickered as she led me to a solarium at the back of the house. “I hope you won’t mind if my husband joins us for this conversation?” She directed her next question to a man occupying an easy chair in the corner of the large room. “Babe? You decent? We have a visitor.”

  I chuckled at that as her husband stood and turned toward me… and holy shit, it was Trip Wiley.

  Yeah. That Trip Wiley.

  What the hell? I was already nervous enough about coming here today. Now I was being greeted by a famous Hollywood movie star?

  The situation was entirely surreal, but Layla offered the introductions as if her ridiculously renowned husband was just a normal person. “Luke, this is my husband, Trip. Trip, this is Luke Taggart.” Her eyebrows rose as she added, “Rick’s son.”

  The name didn’t go unnoticed by the man, but he was kind enough not to make a huge deal about it as he held out his palm to me. “Nice to meet you, Luke.”

  I tried to be cool as I shook his hand, but Jesus. Trip Wiley.

  His smile put me at ease, though, and made him seem like a regular guy, even moreso as he asked, “Care for a drink?”

  “I’m already on it!” Layla called as she started to head out of the room.

  Her husband must have been intuitive enough to realize that I was really in their house to speak to his wife, and halted her departure. “Lay, why don’t you let me handle the drinks. I’m sure you and Luke have a lot to talk about.” He lightly grasped her arm as he passed her by, asking over his shoulder, “Coffee good or is this a conversation for something stronger?”

  I chuckled and answered, “Coffee’s fine, thank you.”

  He gave me a thumbs up on his way out of the room.

  I am in Trip Wiley’s house and he just gave me a thumbs up.

  Mia was gonna shit.

  Layla directed me over to sit in a side chair. I immediately slumped into it, shaking my head at my feet as I said, “I wasn’t expecting that.” This entire meeting was bizarre enough without adding a famous person into the mix.

  Layla waved off my nerves and took a seat on the sofa next to the chair I was sitting in. “Don’t let it get to you.” She leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “The fame thing goes out the window pretty quick when you’re tripping over his dirty clothes every morning.”

  I laughed, unexpectedly finding myself at ease with the whole situation.

  “So, Luke,” she started in cautiously. “You obviously came here today for a reason.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Well,” I was unsure how to begin. “I guess I should start with what I know.” I took a deep breath and ran down the finer points. “I guess Kate and Frederick—Rick—started dating in nineteen-eighty-four. They broke up in eighty-eight, the same year I was born. I lived twelve years with Matthew and Janet Mason until that car accident in two-thousand, when I lost my memory.”

  “Wait. Janet Mason? My old English teacher?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry for your loss. That accident rocked this entire town. Everyone loved her.”

  “Well, that’s the other reason I came to you. You knew my parents. I can’t say the same.”

  “And you want me to tell you about them?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Well,” she looked toward the kitchen and smiled at her husband’s back. “The first time Trip and I met, it was in her classroom, actually.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Trip must have been eavesdropping, because he snickered as he busted, “Doomed for all eternity from that day forward.”

  I chuckled as Layla rolled her eyes. “Aside from that, I don’t know how much else I have to tell you. She was smart and funny… She never yelled, that much I do remember. She was calm, even in a roomful of dopey teenagers. She never talked down to us. She held us to some pretty high standar
ds. And she was undoubtedly my favorite teacher.”

  “Mine, too,” Trip piped in.

  Layla took a deep breath and offered me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Luke, but I didn’t know your mother that well. And I only met Mr. Mason a handful of times. I’m sure I could give you a couple names of people to get in touch with, though, if that will help.”

  “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Her head cocked to the side, her eyes squinting in thought. “Why now? Why the sudden interest?”

  “Well, I didn’t know about their existence until now. All these years, I only knew Frederick as my father. He adopted me right after the accident, and never told me until yesterday that I wasn’t his.”

  Trip returned to the living room carrying a tray of drinks. As we were fixing our mugs of coffee, the sound of singing came from the corner of the room. I looked toward it, and took note of a baby monitor on the side table.

  “Welp,” Trip said, drying his hands on his jeans. “I guess the baby’s up. I’ll get her.”

  “You just had a baby?” I asked Layla. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look fantastic.”

  “Thank you, although my mirror would disagree with you.” We both chuckled before she added, “And no, ‘the baby’ is almost three years old. But she’s the youngest of five, so I guess she’ll always be the baby.”

  “Five?” I was stunned at the idea of so many people in one house. “Where are they all hiding?”

  “At the school down the street.”

  I checked my watch and was reminded that it was only two in the afternoon. “Oh. Of course.”

  Layla took a sip of her coffee, regarding me over the edge of her mug. “Luke?” she asked, getting back to the subject at hand. “While all this is fascinating, and I’m sorry you lost your parents, I guess I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

  We were both aware that she wouldn’t know that much about my parents. I guessed it was time to ‘fess up to the real reason I came here. “I wanted to apologize for the fact that the man I knew as my father all these years was responsible for you losing your mother.” Despite my resolve, I started to well up. “He never told me the truth until yesterday. He said it’s because he wanted me to remember on my own. He’s sent me to every doctor in the city. He says he never gave up hope.” It was no use. A tear streamed down my cheek. “But I can’t forgive him. He lied! He lied to me for sixteen years!”

  Layla grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and handed it over as she rested her other hand on my knee. “Luke, you’re being too hard on yourself. And your father, actually.”

  I swiped my nose with the tissue and tried to get myself under control. Jesus. How humiliating. I was blubbering like a maniac in the house of a perfect stranger. “My father is dead. You’re talking about Frederick.”

  Layla shook her head. “No, Luke. Frederick’s been your father for the past sixteen years. And from what I can tell after meeting you, he’s done a fine job of raising you.”

  Trip came back into the room carrying a little girl upside down by her ankles, the dog leaping around at his feet. “Luke... This is Cameron. Say hello, Cam!”

  A mop of blonde curls bounced on the top of her head as she waved and said, “Hewooo, Cam!”

  Trip threw her over his arm and tickled her until she squirmed to be let down. The dog followed on her heels as she ran into a playroom off the solarium and straight toward a toy box, pulling out everything inside, talking to each toy as she did.

  Trip finally realized that the stranger sitting on his couch was red-eyed and using up all his tissues. “Hey. Bad time? You alright?”

  “She’s cute,” I said, trying to deflect the focus off of me.

  Thankfully, my diversion tactics worked. Trip let out an exasperated breath as Layla rolled her eyes. “Thank you. She’s a terror,” she shot back on a laugh.

  The comment was enough to jog me out of my sour mood. I gave a last swipe to my eyes and let out a sad chuckle.

  “I’d better get in there before she tears apart the entire house. Hey, it was nice meeting you, Luke.”

  “Thank you. You, too. My girlfriend isn’t going to believe me when I tell her where I was today.” I didn’t even think about it before referring to Mia as my girlfriend. It sounded right, though.

  “Well, bring her on by sometime. Now that you know where to find us,” he said on a wink. The guy had such a Hollywood grin but somehow, he made it look genuine.

  I was speechless as he left the room. I finally turned back to Layla, and saw that she was eyeing me curiously. “I have something to show you,” she said as she rose and went out to the hall. She came back a minute later holding a large framed picture toward me for my inspection. Five children. Different skin colors. Obviously not all of them were genetically theirs.

  She pointed to three of the children. “This is Katherine, that’s Terrence, and you’ve already met Cam. We made them,” she added on a sly grin. Then she pointed to the two younger boys. “And these are our sons, Dayo and Zawadi.” She smiled warmly as she looked down at the picture. “We chose them. These children are just as much ours as these are.” She leaned the portrait against the sofa and sat back down as her words sunk in. As if I hadn’t already gotten where she was going, she explained, “A family isn’t defined by bloodlines. I can understand why you feel betrayed that Frederick kept the truth from you, but you can’t deny that he’s done his best to raise you in a loving home.”

  “But what about having an affair with a married woman?” I asked. “That he destroyed an entire family? I can’t forgive him.”

  “I assure you, my family isn’t destroyed.”

  Oh man. What a shitty thing for me to have said. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I—”

  “I know what you meant. It’s okay. But you don’t owe me an apology. Even your father isn’t entirely to blame. My mother… She had some problems back then. I won’t lie and say growing up without her was easy, but I made my peace with it years ago.”

  Her admission made me smile. “You must have. I couldn’t help but notice that you named your daughter after her.”

  “Well, it was my way of forgiving her. At least in my own heart. I’m... okay now.” She gestured toward her husband before placing her hand at my knee again. “We’re okay. You will be, too. I promise.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Layla Wilmington sent me on my way with some names of her other teachers that were friendly with my mother back in the day. I didn’t have it in me just then to follow up on any of the people on that list. I’d done enough research for one day.

  She also gave me her phone number and asked me to keep in touch. I was grateful but confused. Why would she give her phone number to a random stranger? But then I realized the bizarre connection she and I had. We were almost family in a weird sort of way.

  I was so frazzled by the events of the day, the overload of information, that I considered stopping in at a cool little lakeside pub I’d passed on the way home from Norman. But instead, I realized I was simply done with this day altogether. Exhausted, I headed back into the city, back to Mia’s apartment.

  She was still at work, so I did some shopping and whipped up some dinner, then waited for her to get home. But I fell asleep on the sofa before she could.

  * * *

  The next morning was Saturday, so Mia and I were able to indulge in a leisurely breakfast. We made love in the shower, and then I got to work frying up some potatoes and bacon at her stove. While cooking, I told her all about my encounter with Layla and Trip Wiley yesterday.

  She couldn’t quite believe it.

  I placed our prepared plates on the island as Mia sat on a stool across from me, gaping in shock. “I knew he was local, but oh my God!”

  “Yeah,” I snickered. “I actually thought he lived here in the city.”

  “Was it weird? Did you totally lose your cool? I would have.”

  “No. Well, I mean, at first, yeah,
but they were both really nice. Like regular people. I got over the fame thing within only a couple minutes. He’s just a normal guy and his wife is really sweet.”

  “Hmm,” she said, taking a bite of her eggs. “Is he as hot in real life?”

  My fork froze midway to my mouth as I raised an eyebrow. “Watch it, Cruz.”

  After our breakfast, I dropped Mia off for her first therapist appointment. I didn’t have anywhere to be afterward, so I ended up just going for a drive. I had more than a few thoughts to sort out. I replayed my conversation with Layla Wilmington yesterday, the things she’d said about my dad. Reluctantly, I had to agree that she was right.

  He made it his goal in life to raise me with the best of everything. He took me in, this scrawny little geek, and he gave me a home. A stellar education. Had me trained in every skill imaginable, from martial arts to ballroom dancing.

  Jesus Christ, he turned me into Bruce Wayne, for fuck’s sake. I used to joke about it, but shit. I really was. Dead parents, endless wealth, the way I liked to think of myself as a superhero...

  Without fully realizing I was doing it, I turned my car north and headed home.

  * * *

  My father was sitting alone in the den when I appeared in the doorway. He had his elbows on his knees and was turning a pocket watch around in his hands.

  “Hey,” I said warily, trying to gauge his mood, offer an olive branch.

  He looked up at my greeting, and I felt guilty when I saw that his eyes were tinged with concern. “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls,” I said. “I know you worry.” I’d turned my ringer off after the first attempt. It had been easy to ignore the rest after that.

  “I figured you were okay. I just like to know it. Even if you’re angry with me,” he added, lowering a brow. “Thank you for at least texting me last night.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Where have you been staying?”