by Jessa Eden
“Your next appointment is with Roger Albright,” she whispered as she pointed toward the office.
“Who?” I asked, not familiar with the name.
“He’s an FBI agent. He’s been calling me every day for the last two weeks and today he just showed up.”
“Do you know what he wants?”
“No, he just asked to speak to you.”
Shit.
I didn’t want to deal with him, but that’s what being the boss is all about.
“Sorry, Beau, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s fine. Give me five minutes and send him in.”
I hustled into my office, threw on my navy Hugo Boss sports coat, and prepared to meet an FBI agent for who knows what reason.
Sure enough, five minutes later, Donna showed the man dressed in black into my office. He wasn’t a big guy, but his dark eyes were sharp and he surveyed my sprawling office as if it was a crime scene.
“Thanks for meeting with me today,” he said in a low voice, meant to convey authority, as he gripped my hand in a firm handshake.
I nodded. “No problem. What did you need to talk to me about?” I asked, pointing to a seat in front of my desk as I sat down behind it.
Parking his ass in the leather high back chair, he explained why he was there. “I’m not gonna dance around the issue, Mr. Shepard. We’re investigating Senator Blackwood. We’ve received a tip about his attempt to extract a bribe from you to smooth the way for some permits granted by the Historical Society for your Arsenal hotel.”
“Why would I help you out with your investigation?”
“Because we’re also investigating your father.”
That was unexpected. “What? Why?” I asked, before I could temper my reaction.
His brown eyes soaked in my concern. “We’ve noticed he has a hand in almost every big deal going down in this city, including your project.”
“He knows a lot of people and has a lot of connections in the city of Baltimore,” I defended, even though I knew he was crooked.
“Yes, he does. Don’t worry. We’re not really after him. We want the Senator and if you help us, we’ll make the case against your father go away.”
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“We want you to call the Senator again. Confirm you’ve made a payment in exchange for his help with the permits.”
“Hmm…that’s something I’m going to have to think about. I would love nothing more to see that old codger get thrown in jail, but I don’t want to jump into this little game you’re asking me to play.”
“I understand. Here’s my card. You have a little time to think about it. But, we need your help in putting the Senator away. He’s been committing fraud for years.”
“I understand. I’ll get back to you soon.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marla:
After dropping off my last delivery for Meals on Wheels and spending some quality time with Mrs. Edwards, I went back home. As the front door swung open and I stepped inside the entryway, I was greeted by the sounds of weapons discharging as a string of profanity followed.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I walked into the living room after putting my purse down.
“Just chilling out,” Charlie offered, playing Halo on his Xbox console.
“Okay. How long have you been playing?” I asked, standing next to where he was seated on an oversized green bean bag.
“Only two hours.”
“You should at least get outside today and soak in some sunshine. You need your vitamin D to feel good.”
He paused his game as he glanced back at me. “I might. But I’m in no hurry on my day off to run around outside. So what’s your plan for the day?”
“I’m going to visit Charly after I eat some lunch. Do you want to come along?” I asked.
I had yet to tell Charlie about the true nature of his relationship to Charly. My son only knew him as a good friend of the family. I was going to have to tell my son about his grandfather soon, preferably in Charly’s presence. I might even do it today, if he was willing to go with me.
“I don’t think I’ll go with you. But tell Charly I said hello,” Charlie answered, more concerned with his game.
Guess it wasn’t meant to be.
I kissed his forehead. “I will. I hope you will come with me next time or if you want, you can go visit him on your own.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the TV. I left him to his game and went into the kitchen to make a chicken salad sandwich for lunch. After I ate, I drove over to Charly’s place. He lived in a good-sized skyscraper, so I took the elevator up to his apartment. He answered the door and his face lit up as he welcomed me in.
“Marla!” he said, giving me a good hug.
“Hey, Charly. It’s good to see you.”
“Come in, come in.” He ushered me through the front door to his beautiful place.
Charly’s apartment was similar to a suite found in a five star hotel—plush luxurious furniture and twenty-four hour maid service. I loved the cheery tangerine color on the walls and the large windows, which let light stream in. My favorite, though, was the high vaulted ceilings, which were two stories high.
He was happy here. He liked his little social club and the fantastic gourmet food they served. I was always up to sharing a meal with Charly.
“Did you bring me anything?” he asked, always thrilled when I added something to Charlie’s boxes.
“Here you go,” I said, handing him a long, teal envelope as I walked through his living room.
“Another letter?”
“Yep.”
His blue glance lit up with curiosity. “How many do you think you’ve written Beau?”
“Good question...I don’t know. In the beginning, it seemed like I wrote him every other day. Back then is kind of a blur, though. Maybe a hundred?” I asked, not really sure.
“Could be. I remember the first stack of letters you brought me. I thought to myself that girl truly loves Beau.”
I smiled at his recollection. “Still do. He doesn’t think so, but you have the proof.”
After I started writing all those letters to Beau, I passed them off to Charly’s safekeeping. I think, subconsciously, I thought it would somehow bring Beau back to me.
What I didn’t expect was for those letters to birth a project I ended up working on for over twenty-two years as I catalogued Charlie’s life. It started when I had Emma take pictures of me every month while I was pregnant, in a side profile shot where I held my hands underneath my growing belly. I liked tracking my progress and my obsession grew from there.
After Charlie was born, Beau’s granddad surprised me with a video camera. I had that clunky video recorder out all the time. I wore that sucker out, taping all of Charlie’s milestones from his first smile to his first roll over to his first taste of banana.
When I wasn’t taping my baby, I was writing down all the cute little things he used to say. When he outgrew his toddler years, I kept his prized toys and the frayed blankie he called Be-bop.
Once he got into school, I saved art projects, drawings, report cards, and favorite books. As Charlie grew older, I made a record of everything in high school from his first day to graduation.
I slowed down a little when he went to college, but I still filmed his graduation and his first day of work at the salon, even though he begged me to shut off the camera on my phone.
I was determined to give Beau a chance to watch his son grow up, even though it was second hand. It was the best I could do.
“I’ll add this to the rest,” Charly said, waving the envelope around in his weathered hand.
“How many boxes are there now?” I asked.
Charly had offered to store all the boxes I had accumulated over the years. It seemed right to let him be the guardian of Charlie’s records.
“Oh, there must be seven or eight, now.”
We walked toward his spare bed
room and he opened the walk-in closet where the collection was stored.
“Do you think Beau will ever see any of these mementos now that he knows about Charlie?”
“I think all of your hard work is going to pay off, my girl. He’s gonna devour all of these boxes pretty soon.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“The day is coming when I’m gonna open this closet and hand him these boxes.”
That thought terrified and thrilled me.
The past laid out bare for what it really was.
“I don’t even know how he’ll react, and that scares me,” I admitted, terror reflected in my gaze.
A comforting smile spread across Charly’s kind face. “Give Beau credit. He’ll do right by this. You’ll see.”
I tried to hold on to the faith Charly was giving me. I wanted Beau to have access to all the time he had lost with us. More importantly, I wanted him to understand the love I had poured into this project.
Maybe...just maybe, I had reason to hope.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Beau:
During the off-season, my attention turned to building up the team and working with the general manager to secure new players for the upcoming season. I loved the thrill of the hunt and securing the best players to sign with the Gators.
It kept me busy, mostly from thinking about Charlie.
I didn’t know what to do with the fact that my kid was running around in the world. It wasn’t as if he was little and I could take him out for ice cream or play catch in the park.
He was full-grown and I had no idea how to relate to him. I didn’t have much of a role model and I certainly didn’t want to be a cold motherfucker like my father was.
I was stuck. Consequently, I pretended my life hadn’t changed. I started working non-stop on the team, the hotel, and my other investments.
The only time I took a break was when I worked out. On a Wednesday afternoon in early September, when the leaves were beginning to turn various shades of yellow, red, and purple, I headed into my training session with Ibrahima.
I threw on my shorts and sneakers, and met him by the climbing ropes.
He glanced at me with worry in his fierce gaze. “You’re working too much. More than usual. What’s going on?” he asked perceptively.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’d rather work yourself to death?”
“Maybe. It’s better than the alternative, which is to stop and think about how fucked up my life is right now.”
“Have you talked with anyone about what’s going on with you? Whatever happened with that lady you told me about?”
“Yeah, she’s the one causing so many issues in my life. I just found out she had my kid.”
His dark face grew wide with shock. “Your kid? You’re a dad?”
“Yep. Sort of. If I can start being a dad to a twenty-two year-old I don’t know at all.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Nope. I’ve talked to his mom recently and that didn’t go well. But she did give me his number.”
“Did you call him?”
“No. I don’t know what to say.”
“He’s twenty-two. Just treat him like a friend. Call him up and go to a game. You can hook him up with that, can’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. But what do we talk about?”
“Whatever comes up. Let him take the lead. If he wants to get into the heavy details, let him ask questions. Just figure out what you want to tell him. Honesty would be the best policy, but that’s up to you. Otherwise, just see what happens.”
“I don’t know if I can handle that. I’m so goddamn mad at his mom for not telling me about him. I don’t know why she would do that. It doesn’t make sense. But you should have seen him when I confronted her about it. He was in my face in a heartbeat, protecting his mother. I gotta say when I realized who he was, I was proud of his courage.”
Ibrahima smiled big. “Ah, already signs of paternal pride. You have it in you to be a great dad, Beau. I think you should give it a shot.”
I appreciated his confidence in me. “Do you have kids, Ibrahima?” I had never bothered to ask. Too caught up in my own shit.
His entire face lit up in a beaming smile. “I do. Two boys and a girl. They try my patience, but I love them dearly. I would give my life for each of them.”
I could tell he meant it. Ibrahima was a great coach; I could only imagine how amazing he was as a father.
“So what’s this young man’s name?” he asked in genuine curiosity.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Charlie. Marla named him after my grandfather. At least, she got one thing right.”
“I’m glad you can see that, Beau. It’s good to appreciate the little things.”
“I’m trying, but I’m ready to train.”
“Yes, yes,” Ibrahima let out in his rich voice. “Come. I’ll work you hard today, Beau Shepard.”
I grinned. “Bring it on.”
He gave me an evil smirk “Let’s start with burpees. Give me fifty.”
He meant what he said.
He kicked my ass the entire time, making me feel every crunch, every burn, and every hold. But it was worth it to forget everything for a little while.
After we finished my training session, I hustled home to change for another charity function I had promised to attend. I went through the motions and got through my evening.
But on the way home from the benefit gala, I thought about inviting Charlie to a game. It seemed harmless. We didn’t have to talk about anything major and we could always watch the game if we ran out of things to say.
Another month went by, while I gathered the courage to meet up with Charlie. I remember it was on a random Thursday in October when I decided I was ready to see my kid.
“Will you call Charlie for me?” I asked as Donna as we stood in my office, preparing for a meeting.
I had filled her in about him one afternoon when she’d asked me what was going on.
Her light blue gaze studied me thoughtfully. “No, Beau. You need to do this.”
“Please, I’ll buy you a Ferrari,” I pleaded.
“What the hell would I do with a Ferrari?” she shot back. “Just call your kid.”
Damn it. I was probably the only rich man in Baltimore who couldn’t bribe his secretary.
I reluctantly picked up my cell phone and put his number into my contact list from the yellow post-it Marla left me. I hit send, wondering if I was really going to go through with this.
It rang three times, but he picked up. “Yello?”
“Charlie?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
I cleared my throat. “It’s Beau Shepard.”
“Hey, dude. What’s going on?”
“I was calling to see if you’d want to join me for the Gator home opener this Friday in my box.”
“Are you serious?” There was serious excitement in his voice.
That made me feel better. “Yeah, I want you to come see a game.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be there.”
“Do you want me to send a car for you?”
“What? No, man. I got my own wheels. I’m good.”
“Okay, just tell the ticket agent who you are when you arrive and they’ll make sure you get to the right place.”
“Sounds awesome, man. Can’t wait. See you Friday.”
That went better than I’d hoped for. He actually sounded majorly excited about watching a game with me.
Friday rolled around and I was seriously nervous. I had never been in this kind of situation before. I wanted everything to be perfect. So I made sure Joaquin had stocked the kitchen with every snack and drink choice possible. I knew Charlie would probably be a ravenous beast, like any other twenty-two year old guy.
Ten minutes before the game started, Charlie showed up. Unlike me, he was relaxed, with a smile on his young face. I couldn’t believe how much we looked alike.
There was n
o doubt he was my son. His wild, curly hair reminded me of mine at that age. We were almost the same height and he was skinny, like I’d been, waiting to grow meat on his bones.
Still at some point, I wanted a DNA test done before I put a trust fund together for him.
“So this is what a luxury box at the Baltimore arena looks like? This is how the better-half lives?” he asked, glancing around at the pool table and wall of TV’s. “I like it.”
“Come on in, Charlie. Would you care for something to eat?” I asked pointing to the buffet of junk food I had prepared.
His dark eyes lit up with glee. “Yeah, man. Those nachos look killer.”
“Help yourself. Want something to drink?”
“Yeah, I could go for a beer.”
“Are you old enough to drink?” I asked.
“I’m legal. Since last year.”
“Wow. You’re really full grown,” I said in an attempt to understand I had an adult son.
I signaled to Joaquin to pour Charlie a cold one, but it felt weird to give him a beer. Like I was breaking the law or being a bad influence.
“Yep, I’m an adult, but I still act like a kid most of the time,” he volunteered as he shrugged out of his black leather jacket.
“Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He scoffed. “Like you grew up, dude. I see you in the paper all the time for all the parties you throw.”
He wasn’t going to cut me any slack. “That’s different. That’s business.”
“I don’t know about that. Sure looks like a lot of fun.”
He was fishing for an invitation. I decided to give it to him straight. “It’s all right. But to tell you the truth, it gets old after a while.”
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of a good party.”
He was definitely young. “Why don’t you go get your nachos?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m on it.” He practically ran to the food.
Amused, I changed the subject as he heaped chips, cheese sauce, hamburger, and jalapenos on his plate. “You like hockey?” I asked as he took a seat next to me, so we could watch the game.
“It’s all right.” He shrugged, more interested in his nachos. “These are so good. Can I have more?”