Ex-Con Times Two

by Jay S. Wilder

  I get back to the pressing matter. “What’s this about some trunk full of stuff she found?”

  “Oh that. Who told you about it?”

  “Claire was here yesterday.”

  “Fuck. Her mother told her? Shit. We have to get this taken care of before it gets out of control.”

  “What’s in the truck?” I ask again.

  He shifts around, then leans back in the sofa. “It’s nothing major. Just some keepsakes.”

  “What kind of keepsakes, Dad? Who do they belong to?”

  He doesn’t answer me. He just looks at me, then turns his face away. Oh fuck. Well, fuck me. I’m praying the man has not been keeping souvenirs from the girls he’s offed over the years. The way he’s looking at me, fuck, I’m almost sure that’s exactly what he has inside the trunk. I just hope it’s underwear or locks of their hair, and not fingers or ears. Fuck my life right now. I can’t believe this shit.

  “Answer me, Dad. What is it? Where is the trunk now?”

  “Mandy has it. I don’t know where she put it, otherwise I’d get it from her and destroy the contents. I was hoping you could convince her to give it back, and to come back home.”

  “Christ, Dad. Me? Why me? Why not Claire? Or even better, why don’t you talk to your wife?”

  “She refuses to see me right now.”

  “Well then apologize, beg, plead, buy her something,” I tell him. “Get her some art.” I say that to see if he knows anything about Michael. He doesn’t flinch or react. Maybe he doesn’t know. “Don’t put me in the middle of this. I think I’ve signed up for enough, don’t you agree? I’ve worked my ass off for you, and now I’m about to put my head on the chopping block. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Hard work doesn't always protect you on the downside, and none of us get to play for free.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The timing isn’t good for me to go to war with Mandy, son. She’ll listen to you.”

  “You’re probably right that she’ll listen,” I concede, raking an agitated hand through my hair. “I’m not so sure she’ll do anything I say.”

  He looks up at me. “What do you mean?”

  There’s no point lying to my father. He has a powerful built-in radar for bullshit, especially where I’m concerned. I could never lie to him, so I tell him. “She asked me to come see her this weekend.”

  “You saw her?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me more intently. “Where?”

  I get up and start pacing. This is my father, but if he really wants me to help with Mandy, I can’t be the one to betray her trust about Michael or where she’s staying. I especially can’t betray her if there’s anything in that trunk that can bring Dad down. I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to tell him his wife is having an affair. If he really wants to know, he’ll find out soon enough.

  “It doesn’t matter where I saw her. I’ll talk to her, all right?” I pull out my phone and look for her number. “I’ll text her now and see if she can meet me when I get back next Monday.”

  “Not good enough,” he answers as I’m sending the text. “I need you to take care of this trunk issue today.”

  “I’m flying out this afternoon,” I tell him, looking at my watch.

  “It’s still mid-morning. You’ve got more than enough time to see her before you leave.”

  “Christ. Okay, but when I do this, Dad, I want you to promise you’ll leave me out of anything new.”

  “I can’t make that promise to you either.”

  “Shit. Don’t you think you’ve got me doing more than my fair share already?”

  “Let me tell you something, son. There’s doing your share, and then there’s doing what it takes. They’re not always the same.”

  “Fine,” I tell him. “I’ll go see her now.”

  “Good, and when you meet her, you can also remind her how important this Warrior deal is for Sloan Sports.”

  I’m in disbelief that he still has the Warrior acquisition on his mind.

  “Seriously? I just told you I don’t want to deal with anything new. Let’s get this trunk issue out of the way. I’ll beg her to let you meet with her so you can talk to each other. That’s enough, Dad. Maybe that Warrior deal needs to go on the back burner. If she can’t trust you right now, I can’t see how she’ll want to help you close that deal.”

  “This Warrior acquisition is a shot at really big business, son…for both of us. I was going to talk to you about this when this Rushton issue blew over.”

  He acts like the Rushton issue is someone else’s little problem. Such a small problem, it’s an issue. It’s as though he forgot he created it, and that it’s my fucking life hanging in the balance.

  “When the deal is done,” he continues, “I want you with me at the helm. There are only a few people who I think can be really, really exceptional at this, and son, you’re one of them. Remember the thing I always told you was my number one rule in business?”

  I repeat his mantra like a parrot. “Nobody gives you shit, Dad.”

  “Exactly. Nobody gives you shit. You want to leave something behind in this life, you go out and you work your ass off, and you build it. What do you say?”

  He won’t stop pressing me on this. I know him too well. I have to get him out of my place. I start walking to the door. “I’ll think about it, Dad. Besides, who knows if I’ll be a free man after it’s all said and done. I’ve got to take care of some things, Dad, and now I also have this Mandy deal with the trunk. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “You might as well talk to her about Warrior too, while you’re there anyway.”

  I glower at the man. He has a massive set of balls if he thinks she’ll forgive him in one moment, and approve a half a billion dollar transaction the next. I’m tired of his shit right now. I tell him I’ll try, just to get him out of my hair.

  “Good. Thanks, son.” I open the front door and he finally gets to his feet. “I have a full day today. I’ll talk to you when you get back. I’m not too happy about the timing of this island vacation of yours, but I understand. Have a good time, son. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He meets me at the front door and puts a hand on my shoulder. He gives me a heartfelt thanks as we walk to the elevator. He even hugs me as we wait. For fuck’s sake, the man can manipulate.

  Chapter 34

  Rebecca

  After I leave Kara’s office, I grab a few files and head out. I stop for a large cup of specialty coffee near the office and walk home. Jonathan has arranged to pick me up around four this afternoon, so I have almost the entire day. I feel like I’m already on vacation. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so little to do.

  I can use a meal and another coffee when I’m a few blocks from my building. I send a text to Sarah to see if she wants to meet me. She tells me to come by her place first so we can catch up. By catch up, I know she wants me tell her about Jonathan. I’m not about to tell her much, but I won’t avoid her either.

  I get to her building. She lives in a gorgeous, airy and modern condo building. Her concierge lets me up to her floor, and she’s waiting at her front door when I get up there. It occurs to me I haven’t been to her place before. It’s on the twenty-fourth floor and has a breathtaking view of Central Park. Her apartment is tastefully decorated, opulent, and shares her contemporary chic good taste.

  Sarah lets me in and gives me a warm hug with one arm. She has a cup of steaming tea in the other hand. She takes a sip and offers me a cup.

  “No thanks,” I tell her. “You know coffee’s my thing.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks, leading me to her sprawling open concept kitchen. “This is seriously good fair market organic jasmine tea.”

  “Positive. It doesn’t sound like it has enough caffeine for me to enjoy it.”

  “You’d be surprised. Have a seat, hun. So what’s new?”

  “Not much,” I answer, taking a seat in one of the bar stools
around the center island counter at one end of the bright room.

  She’s gearing up to grill me about Jonathan. I take my time to look around. There’s a wall displaying brilliant Victorian era art. I get up and walk over to them, enthralled but also in avoidance of her pending inquisition. I admire it as she stares at me for more information.

  “Come on, Rebecca. I want details. Don’t hold out on me, woman. What’s been happening with you and Jonathan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stop the coy routine, Becky. Or was it a dream?”

  “Sorry, was what a dream?”

  “I had the strangest dream a few days ago. We were running with Buddy, and when we passed your building on the way back, Jonathan fucking Sloan was at your doorstep. Then four days later, I see you and you don’t mention what happened!”

  I smile. I don’t mean to be enigmatic, but the more I tell her, the less I’ll be able to hold back on what I’m feeling for Jonathan.

  “Tell me!” she demands, with eyes widened.

  “Okay, okay. I’ve seen him…a few times.”

  “What? When? I just saw you four days ago. Where did you get the time to see him so much already?”

  “I can’t get into it, Sarah. It’s a bit complicated.”

  “Complicated how?”

  I want to tell her, but it’s not a smart move. “All I can say is his family is a client of my firm. Sorry, Sarah. I’ve already said too much.”

  I think this will hold her off, but somehow, I doubt it.

  “So what’s he like in bed?” she asks.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A question your girlfriend has to ask. After all, throngs of women have been chasing after Jonathan, and you’re telling me you’ve seen him a few times in less than a week. It’s either he’s in a heap of trouble, or you’re sleeping with him.”

  She’s right on both counts, but I don’t add fuel to the fire by admitting anything.

  “Okay let’s talk about something else. I can’t say more.”

  “Shit. All those women have been trying to get his attention, and you’re practically fighting him off.”

  “How’s your yoga classes going?” I ask to get her off my back. If I address any of her questions about Jonathan, it will only encourage her.

  “I can tell it’s something juicy, dammit. Yoga’s fine. Hey, do you want to come to a free demonstration lesson I’m giving on Saturday?”

  “I can’t. I’ll be away.”

  “Oh? Going on vacation, or traveling on business?”

  “It’s for work.”

  “Where to?”

  “Oh, nowhere special,” I lie.

  “You’re going away with him, aren’t you?” She looks at me intently. “Yes. That’s it! You’re going away with Jonathan. Why didn’t you tell me? Where are you heading to?”

  “Jeez, Sarah. I can’t say more.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me more, Becky.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to know!” She laughs, and grabs me with feigned urgency. “You look like you’re dying to tell someone!”

  “I’m not, but okay. What I’ll tell you is I’ll be in the Bahamas for three days. It’s with Jonathan, and it’s business. That’s all I’m saying, so you’ll have to survive with that.”

  “Maybe you can make something up, then,” she teases.

  “What? Just watch a movie if you want romance, Sarah. So where’s Buddy?”

  “He’s at the pet spa.” She looks at the time. “I have to pick him up in a few minutes. It’s close to your place. Do you mind if we go now?”

  “Not at all,” I tell her.

  I gather my things and we leave. I’m glad for the reprieve, but she doesn’t skip a beat when we get outside.

  “Don’t stop.”

  “Don’t stop what?” I ask her while we walk.

  “Becky, you’d better stop trying to change the subject. Did you kiss him?”

  I must let something on in my body language. Her eyes practically pop out of her head. “You’ve slept with him, and you’ve kissed him. You can’t fool me.”

  “Stop, Sarah. I’m not talking.”

  “Come on, hun. I’m getting so little action, I think my crotch shriveled up and died. I need something to keep me going.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Sarah.”

  She stops me in the street and turns to me. “I miss our high school days. We used to share everything…especially after that loser Bryce.”

  She knows how to press my buttons. I’m not telling her more, but I remember how much time we spent hanging out that summer after we graduated from high school.

  I concede, just a little. “Do you want to go for lunch after we get Buddy? Just know that if you bring up Jonathan, I’m bolting. You hear me?”

  “Shit. Okay, lunch.” She gets the message, but as I’ve softened the blow, a broad smile crawls up her face.

  We pick up Buddy, drop him off at her place, and head to a small bistro for lunch. We catch up on everything but Jonathan Sloan. We almost finish our sandwiches and it’s going well, until I get a text—from Jonathan. He tells me he’s looking forward to the trip, and we’re still on for four in the afternoon. She must read my telling smile.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” She asks, looking back and forth between me and my phone. “Holy shit, Rebecca. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  I look up at her and try to put on my poker face. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I put my phone away and take a sip of my water.

  “It’s all over your face, so stop denying it.”

  I scoff at her, but she continues.

  “How on earth do you go from zero to head over heels in four days? The man must have some love potion or something. I heard he’s got a massive dick. Is it true?”

  She doesn’t realize how loudly she said that. The people sitting at tables near us turn to look our way.

  I lean in close to her and speak in a whisper, my eyes glaring at her. “This is why I can’t tell you anything. Now the whole coffee shop wants to know if he has a big dick, Sarah.”

  She laughs, and I’ve just about had enough. “I’ve got to get back home,” I say, gathering my things. I stand up and make for the door. “Let’s do lunch when I’m back.”

  She follows me out and thankfully, has to go in the other direction to get home. “I want to know everything!” she calls out to me when we’re outside. “Have a good trip, Becky.”

  Chapter 35

  Jonathan

  Mandy returns my text just after Dad leaves in his limo. She lets me know she’s having brunch with a friend at the country club in New Jersey. She’ll see me there if I can meet her after her meal. If I take the Holland Tunnel, it will take over an hour to drive from my place with the daytime traffic. I tell her to wait there for me.

  I get there as Mandy and one of her socialite friends are finishing up their desserts. Mandy catches sight of me at the maître d’s desk. She waves me over to their table.

  “Good afternoon,” I say as I arrive. We make the usual idle conversation, and I sit after her friend eventually leaves.

  “So what is this about?” Mandy asks.

  “A couple of things, Mandy. I won’t keep you for long.”

  “Good,” she answers. “I’m meeting Michael to do some shopping this afternoon. Did I tell you we’re remodeling the living room at the cottage in the Hamptons? Michael has such a good eye for color. We’ll be checking out samples later.”

  “That’s nice.” I ignore this detail. She’s probably remodeling in the Hamptons so she can leave Dad in Long Island. It’s not my business, so I get to the point. “Okay so a few things, Mandy. Dad wants to apologize and find a way to make it up to you. Is there any way you can forgive him?”

  She looks at me and doesn’t answer.

  I add, “He knows
what he’s done is unforgivable. He’s really sorry, Mandy. He’s missing you like crazy.”

  I lay it on thick because we’re in dire straits, and I know this has to at least sound sincere if she’s going to hand anything over or consider taking him back.

  “He put you up to this, didn’t he?” She asks, already annoyed.

  “I won’t lie to you, Mandy. Yes, he did. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t ask me to. You know I feel this should be between you and him. I’ve never meddled in your lives before, and I wasn’t about to start now. I understand what I’m asking you to do may be hard, but I’m here anyway, on his behalf, asking you to give him another chance.”

  “I love your father, Jonathan. I lost count of how many times he hurt me, and I stood by him all these years. He was never faithful after we got married. I was willing to forgive him, and I did forgive him for all of it. He took such good care of me the last couple of years. I was ready to let go of all the wrongdoing, all the womanizing. I could even overlook that massive ego of his, but you know what got to me? What I found in the trunk. That was the last straw.”

  “What’s in the trunk?” I asked, glad that she’s the one to bring it up, and not me.

  “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Tell me, please.” I beg, ready to grovel if I have to.

  “I can’t even talk about it here,” she answers, looking behind her shoulder in each direction to see if anyone is close enough to hear. “What’s in the trunk is enough for me to bury him. No wife should have to find the things I found in that little box.”

  Her eyes are welling up with tears, so I pull my chair closer and put my arm over her shoulder. It’s time I get firm before she gets any more emotional.

  “What will it take for you to give me that trunk? If there’s anything I can do to make things right, I will. If you’re saying it’s too late, I can tell Dad, but please, can I have the trunk back?”